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“I’m gonna give it to her!”
“No, I’m gonna give it to her.”
It was a common sight to see Harrod and Artie at each other's throats. Pushing, shoving and wrestling over something benign was hardly something new to them, but tonight things were a little different. Ever since they had gotten together earlier in the year, they’d been taking it slow. This was a new experience for both of them after all, and they didn’t want to rush into anything without testing the waters first. However, tonight was their first big test as a couple. An event which all of their friends would be attending, the first time since that fateful night, Zoey and Amber’s Christmas party. A neatly wrapped gift with tacky Santa glitter stickers plastered all over it jerked back and forth as they scrabbled for control, neither conceding an inch.
“Hey! No biting!” Artie yelled as Harrod latched onto his arm
“That’s not what you said last nigh-”
Simultaneously, Harrod and Artie froze as they noticed a very unimpressed figure in their periphery, standing where the closed door once was.
“You didn’t even make it through the door…” Zoey interjected, ripping the box out of their grip
“Who is it, Zoey?” Amber yelled from the kitchen
“Just Harrod and Artie, babe!” She replied cheerfully, before returning her attention to the boys, a serious expression on her face. “Amber’s worked really hard on this party, so I want no shenanigans, you hear me? You so much as break one ornament and you’re out.”
“But I live here?” Harrod responded airheadedly
“I’m sure Artie can endure your fangs full-time. It’s not like you pay rent anyway.” She sarcastically stated as she walked inside, the two lovers following behind, their faces red.
To Artie’s surprise, they had been some of the first to arrive. Harrod’s usual tardiness had made them arrive at 7:45, 15 minutes after the time listed on their invitations and yet, the party seemingly hadn’t even started yet.
“Huh, I thought more people would’ve been here by now.” Artie mused to no one in particular
“What do you mean?” Amber inquired, poking her head out from the kitchen, “The party doesn’t start until 8.”
Suspicious. Very suspicious.
“I see…” Conspicuous by his absence was his partner, who had claimed to need to use the bathroom. Something about feeling more encouraged by the one in his and Zoey’s apartment; whatever that meant.
Making his way towards the bathroom, he knocked twice on the door. “Harrod, you in there?”
The sound of clattering rang out as what sounded like metal hit the tile floor. “Y-yep!” Ok, he was definitely up to something, and he was going to get his answers one way or the other.
“Alright, Harrod. Don’t be too long in there.” Artie said coyly as he fiddled with the lock. Years of pranking had made him well versed in simple lockpicking. As soon as he heard a click, he burst into the room, “AHA!” He pointed his finger accusatively towards the direction of the noise. He’d expected to catch Harrod red-handed, planning his next prank; instead, he was greeted by the sight of the poor pooch falling backwards off the toilet, sending tacks scattering in various directions. In front of Artie was a giant poster of Harrod, smiling with his thumbs up, though it looked like it’d seen better days.
“What the hell are you doing?” Artie asked, shocked
Harrod shook himself off, luckily avoiding falling on anything sharp “What the hell are you doing? I could’ve been naked in here!”
“But I’ve see- But that doesn’t-. Why do you have a poster of yourself hung up?
“It helps ok!” With that, Harrod got up, quickly bundling Artie out of the room and closing the door on him. Artie sighed. Perhaps he was letting the drought get to him. Shortly after they had gotten together, they’d declared a truce on pranking, deciding now that these grand gestures of secret desires were no longer necessary since the cat was out of the bag. Truthfully, Artie didn’t really want to give it up. If there was anything he loved more in this world than Harrod, it was pranking Harrod. In the end, it was all worth it to see Harrod happy, but that spark of lightning that he just felt, believing he’d gotten one up on his former rival? It was something special. Heading back to the living room, pretty much everyone had arrived now, though the notable absence of a certain rat didn’t help with his feelings of failure.
Harrod’s ears twitched giddily as he heard Artie’s footsteps gradually grow quieter, signalling he could return to what he was doing. Carefully, he removed the tacks, collecting them and putting them to one side. He slid the poster off the wall, revealing the same tile pattern, albeit with a lot less loose fur and grime. If you were to look more closely, however, you would see that one tile bizarrely lacked the shine of the others; a detail Harrod knew all too well. Pressing down on this strange slab, it swung open, leaving a small cubby containing a wooden chest. He’d hoped that he could hold himself back tonight, but the opportunity was too perfect, the stash too tempting. Harrod could deny himself no longer.
“I’m sorry, Artie.”
A plaque labelled “Emergency pranking kit” adorned the front of the box, emblazoned in bronze; its classy appearance unbefitting of its surroundings. Harrod flipped up the locks, a wave of nostalgic joy overcoming him as he perused the available materials. Atop this arsenal lay a folded-up letter, written upon a napkin:
“Dear Future Harrod,
If u r reading ts then u must need a prank stat! Pls use the instructons on the back to humilate that ugly rabbit expeedantley fast!
Love,
Past Harrod
PS: Sorry the 20 dollarz is missing. I got hungary and ordered caines :(
PPS: Sorry about the caines sauce stains. They didn’t give me any napkins :(“
Sighing at the loss of potential pranking, or more likely Caines, funds, he nonetheless turned the napkin around scanning the details of his portable scheme.
“It’s perfect!” He exclaimed in hushed excitement “Artie will never see it coming…”
Artie felt a hand on his shoulder as he stood uneasily in the corner.
“She’s here,” Zoey said. He didn’t need to be told what that meant. “I think you should talk to her before Harrod gets back.” She was right, but it didn’t make the task any easier.
They’d seen each other a few times since the breakup, but it’d only been in passing. Brief cordial small talk when they happened to cross paths, but there was always an excuse, somewhere else they had to be, avoiding the dog-shaped elephant in the room. But this time, there was no escaping it; ripping off the band-aid was the only way forward.
Gazing across the room, he saw his former lover dressed in a vibrant red and green Christmas sweater, with a matching Santa hat to boot; she always was a big fan of the holidays. A lump formed in his throat as he watched her talk to Esme, smiling and laughing like the cheery person she was, a sharp contrast to the sinking feeling that pooled in Artie’s stomach. Slowly but surely, he made his way towards her, hands in his pockets, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.
“La fête de Hanouka en famille me manque, mais cette fête est sympa aussi!”
“Happy Hanukkah to your family, too! I love your sweater!” Zola exclaimed, pointing to her menorah and dreidel-patterned top.
“Merci, Zola.” Esme responded, smiling. Her expression grew concerned, however, once she saw who was skulking behind Zola, “Oh bonjour Artie”
Zola’s head snapped round, seeming a little disgruntled by the intrusion. For his part, Artie didn’t seem too happy to be there either, though his demeanour portrayed more reluctance than anger. Sensing the friction even through the language barrier, Esme snuck away as they continued to size each other up, both strategising for the conversation ahead.
“Hello Artemis.” Zola deadpanned
“Hi, Zola.” He replied in turn, though neither spoke for several seconds after. Instead, Zola began to walk to a quiet part of the apartment, Artie following quickly behind.
Once she’d reached her desired location, she stopped on a dime, causing Artie to walk into her back.
“Zola? Are you ok?” Artie asked, the quiet making him uneasy. Still, she said nothing and kept her back to him.
“Zola, I’m sorry that it had to end the way that it did, and I should’ve talked to you about this a long time ago.” No response. “A-and I know that my prank was stupid and embarrassing, and I promise I’m never going to do anything like that again.” Nothing. “And I know I’m a stupid jerk who would’ve rather hurt his partner than face his feelings, but please, Zola. Can’t we be friends again?” He pleaded
She turned to the side, thrusting a hand out, still not willing to look him in the eye. Tentatively, Artie extended his own, grasping onto Zola's before:
*Zap*
A jolt of electricity surged through his body as he felt his fur standing on end.
“Whu-” Re-examining Zola’s hand, Artie saw a small black buzzer that emitted a shock, the kind you would find at a joke shop.
“Hahahahahaha! I can’t believe you fell for that! I thought you’d have more of a prank sense by now.” Zola exclaimed, dropping her angry facade.
As she continued to laugh and Artie recovered from the surprise shock, a more pressing question crossed his mind. “So, you’re not mad?” He inquired earnestly.
Zola looked wistfully into the middle distance. “First, I was angry at myself, then I was angry at you, but in the end, what's there to be angry about? We had a good run, but it wasn’t meant to be. We’re just better friends than lovers, I suppose.” She sighed, turning to face him fully. “Take it from me, you can’t force yourself to be someone you’re not. Friends?” Her other hand extended, a smile on her face.
“Friends.” Artie firmly grasped her, only to be met with a familiar shock down his spine.
“Hahahaha, I got you twice!” She choked out as she doubled over in laughter, Artie rolling his eyes as he too began to laugh.
“Heheheheheheheh.”
Harrod exited the bathroom, newly assembled prank in hand. It’d taken him a little longer than he’d expected, and he was a little surprised that Artie or Zoey didn’t interrupt him again, but he was thankful nonetheless. Now he was in the clear, ready to get his trick fix.
“What’s so funny, Harrod?” A voice questioned from behind him.
Jumping from the sudden intrusion, Harrod’s device slipped out of his hands, eliciting a gasp from him as it fell. It landed with a thunk, though luckily it didn’t seem to be enough to set it off.
“Sorry, broski, let me get that for you.”
“No, no, I got it.” Harrod curtly stated, scooping it up before they had a chance to inspect it.
As he went to leave, he felt something tugging against his shirt sleeve, looking back to see Peter, seemingly troubled, “Are you alright man? You seem kinda stressed, and you were in there for a while.”
“Y-yeah, I’m great, Big P. I was just getting Artie’s gift ready.”
“In the bathroom?”
“Well I- I had to hide it, in case he came round to visit.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed, not satisfied with his less-than-convincing answers, “...Right. And what is your gift exactly?”
“It’s um, a new bowling ball, as an apology for what I did to the last one.”
“I see. Well, I hope he enjoys it.” Peter sardonically stated, not willing to push his line of questioning further.
“Oh, he will, heheheheheheheh.” Harrod ominously responded before sauntering away gleefully.
“Guess I’m on Harrod sitting duty.” Peter muttered to himself, following stealthily from a few meters behind.
“Thank you for coming, everyone!” Amber happily yelled, tapping on her glass to get their attention. “And thank you to my wonderful girlfriend for helping me with all this. Couldn’t have done this without you, babe.” She pecked Zoey’s cheek, eliciting a slight blush from the usually stoic fox. “We’ll do our gift exchange now, and then we’ll break out the eggnog and really get this party started!” She whooped, slightly buzzed from “testing” the alcoholic deserts.
“There you are, Harrod, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Artie bemoaned, spotting the dog’s messy mullet in the crowd.
“Sorry, I was talking to Big P.” Harrod replied, snickering a little.
“Here, this is for you.” Artie brought out a rectangular-shaped present, wrapped in extravagant gold paper, a red bow tied around its midsection, adding to its elegance.
“Wow, this is beautiful, Art!” Harrod exclaimed
“Well, it’s something very special to me, something that you would’ve killed for this time last year. But, I think it's about time I gave it up.”
Puzzled, Harrod ripped a corner off, revealing an equally expensive-looking red leather cover binding together a thick, colour-tabbed book. “This is incredible. But I haven’t read anything since they kicked me out of College.”
“Keep opening it, I’m sure you’re gonna wanna read this one.”
He continued to peel back the paper, revealing a white note on the front with only the word “Harrod” on it. Curious, he opened the book, his eyes widening as he was greeted by page after page of Artie’s detailed plans. His weaknesses, fears, pranks both used and unused and even a curiously comprehensive section on his physical attributes. He kept flicking through the book, scanning it ravenously as if it were about to be ripped from him, until his eyes fell on a note dated the 10th of December 2024:
“Today was that curr’s worst trick yet! Saying he can’t hate me anymore. Did the last decade mean nothing to him?! I’ll show him. I’ll prove to him that I’m worthy to be his nemesis…”
Harrod felt a pang in his heart. Had it really been that hard for him to give up their rivalry? All that time, he had thought that this was what Artie had wanted, to prove that he was the best and to get Harrod to concede. But really, it was the chase that made him so happy. Contented, he pulled Artie into a bear hug. “This is the best gift ever! Thank you, babe.”
“Cut it out Harrod. People are staring.” Artie said through gritted teeth, though his tail twitching betrayed his protests.
Harrod let go, picking up a red gift box from beside him. “And this is for you.”
“Huh, this is massive. How did you sneak this in without me noticing?”
“I have my ways.”
He began to lift the lid, a subtle ticking noise starting as he did, “What’s that sound?” He pondered.
Suddenly, a white blur appeared in his periphery.
“Get down, Artie!”
The box was snatched from his grip as the lid came loose, a deluge of glitter shooting from it. Luckily for Artie, he managed to avoid the onslaught, the box having been whisked away from him at the last minute. Unfortunately for Peter, however, his heroics had painted him head to toe in red and green glitter, his fur barely visible through the thick, shiny layers of plastic that now coated him.
“Ooo, sorry Big P.” Harrod grimaced
“Harrod… You tried to prank me as a Christmas present?!” Artie asked, voice warbling, “...It’s genius! Why didn’t I think of that!”
“So you’re not mad at me for breaking our deal?”
“Of course not. I was only doing that because I thought that was what you wanted.”
“Me too!” Harrod jumped up and down in excitement, hugging Artie once more. “Rivals?”
“For life.” Artie responded, holding him close.
“HARROD JONES!” Both Harrod and Artie jumped out of their skin as Zoey’s angry voice cut through the onlooking crowd, “What did I tell you about ruining this party! Look at what you did to Peter!”
“I’m ok…” Peter groaned, sticking a weak thumb into the air.
“Zoey, you wouldn’t kick us out on Christmas, right?”
“Of course not, I’ve got something special in store for you two.” She snarled, grinning ominously.
*Thunk*
The sound of a door locking behind them and footsteps walking away proved that this was no bluff. Zoey did have something special planned for them, and that was to be stuck in the storage cupboard until the party ended.
“Hey, quit it, your leg is in my face.” Artie chided
“Well, your butts in mine, so move over.” Harrod quipped back
As they fumbled around in the dark, Harrod’s head smacked into the wall, conveniently flipping the light switch on. To their surprise, instead of being greeted by the usual assortment of Harrod’s junk and Zoey’s keepsakes strewn everywhere, they saw a neatly tidied space complete with Christmas lights and an old CRT TV plugged into the wall. Next to the light switch, Harrod spotted a note, taped to the wall:
“Since I know you two morons can’t behave, I figured you’d end up here before the end of the night. I’ve left a bunch of Christmas DVDs and a blanket in the old toy box. And hey, if you guys don’t end up causing any more trouble here, I might even come round with some food and drinks later. Provided you haven’t destroyed it all already.
Knock yourselves out (please),
Zoey
PS: Look up”
“Huh, wonder what that means.” Harrod mused before turning to relay the information to Artie.
Instead of words parting his lips, however, he felt his breath exit as his lips were covered by those of his boyfriends. He held his head in place as he let himself get lost in the sudden yet appreciated display of affection. Artie then tilted his head up, angling it towards the ceiling where a familiar plant hung from a string, its white berries quickly filling in the blanks of the ambush. They stayed like this for a while, trading pokes and prods with their tongues, giggling as they playfully nipped at one another; it was the perfect Christmas for the imperfect couple.
“Christmas with the Cranks? Nobody likes that movie!” Artie exclaimed
“Well, I do.” Harrod argued, folding his arms
“Whatever. We’ll have to agree on something to watch, or we’ll have nothing to do here.”
“I could always read your journal entries from your book.” Harrod wryly smirked, waving it above his head.
“Hey! I gave that to you in good faith.”
“Never let your enemies learn your secrets, babe.” He said, sticking out his tongue.
“Fine. Does Jingle All The Way work for you?”
“Hell yeah! I love Arnie!” Harrod yelled, eliciting a face palm from his boyfriend.
As Artie put in the disc and snuggled up with Harrod, recently delivered hot chocolate next to them, an idea popped into his head, one spurred on by the teasing just prior.
“Y’know. We could start our own prank book together. Keep track of score, history, maybe even some photos.”
“Aww, Art. That’s so sweet. I’d love to! Don’t be too mad when it's 50-0 though.”
“Hah, you wish, fleabag!” Artie refuted, twirling his curly locks around his finger.
And so, on a calm December day in 2025, the book of Artie and Harrod was born.