“This store is terrible,” groused Harold, intentionally complaining in front of the ladies who worked there. “Everything is too damn expensive.”

“This is a dollar store, sir.”

“And there’s no selection! None at all!” Harold continued, gesturing at aisle 27 of 53. “I tell you, if my name hadn’t been drawn out of the hat for the office party presents, I wouldn’t even be darkening your goddamn door.”

“Wow, buying Christmas presents at the dollar store,” one of the shopgirls murmured. “Pulling out all the stops, aren’t we?”

Harold began to walk down aisle 27. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” the other shopgirl said.

“Why the hell not? I have presents to buy for everyone at the firm and this aisle is 50% off.”

“That aisle is for wizards and the magically inclined. You need to have a good grasp of the seelie and unseelie worlds to make it out. It’s full of stocking stuffers.”

“Hah! The day some frump in a red vest tells me what I can and can’t do is the day I give my part of the office a raise!” said Harold, defiantly setting off down the aisle. “I don’t care if Merlin himself is in there.”

He walked confidently away as the ladies shook their heads and moved off. True to their word, the aisle was full of little baubles perfect for stockings–and perfectly priced at 50 cents a pop. Most were little carved gnomes and gargoyles. Harold examined each, looking for something that he was sure he wouldn’t want for himself.

Looking back, he noticed that some of the curios seemed to have shifted position. Shrugging it off, Harold kept browsing. The next time he turned around, the geegaws seemed to be even closer.

There wasn’t a third time. Tiny claws closed in on Harold from behind, and everything went black.

The store clerks found him the next day, stuffed and mounted as if by an experienced taxidermist and set at the end of row 27. “I warned him there were stalking stuffers down there,” one said. “Can’t say I didn’t warm him.”

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