The Christmas Gift (excerpt)
_
Tom finished the last of his beer and
was about to leave when someone slipped into the booth across from
him. A man dressed in a Santa Claus suit.
“Whew! I hope you don't mind if I rest here for a minute. I'm exhausted.” The old man said.
Tom couldn't take his eyes off of him. Never had a Santa looked so real to him. The red cheeks looked real and not made up, the long white beard, the long hair and bushy eyebrows looked real, and even the Santa suit looked like it was made out of a fine red wool with real fur cuffs and collar. This guy was top quality all the way.
“I was just leaving. You're welcome to the booth.” Tom stood to leave.
“Please – stay for a minute or two. I've been handing out candy and toys all day at the mall and it would be nice to have a grown up to talk with for a few minutes.” The old man said.
Tom sat back down, more out of curiosity than anything else. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Oh ho, ho, ho; my goodness, no. What would people think seeing Santa Claus drinking alcoholic beverages? Ho, ho, ho.” His chuckle seemed as real as everything else and the sight of this 'Santa' fascinated Tom.
“So I guess in a few days your work will be finished for this year?” Tom asked with a smile.
“Actually, tonight is my last night at the mall. Tomorrow I head home. I have a lot of work to get done before Christmas eve. I have one more gift that I must deliver before I can go. I think it's for you.”
“For me?” Tom raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Yes, sir. I'm sure of it. Here it is.” He placed a small red ball in the middle of the table and Tom stared at it.
“Thanks just the same but I gave up jacks years ago.”
“Ho, ho, ho. It's not a jack ball; oh my no. This ball is magic.” Santa picked up the ball, held it in the palm of his hand, closed his hand and squeezed. When he opened his hand again, the ball glowed bright red for an instant then returned to it's normal color.
“How'd you do that?” Tom asked and he picked up the ball and checked it out. It looked like a regular little red rubber ball to him. He could see no seams or a place where batteries might fit in.
“I told you. It's magic. You squeeze it. If you're the one it belongs to, it will light up this entire room.”
Tom chuckled and did as he was told. When he opened his hand the ball was glowing a brilliant red that filled the entire bar room. He quickly placed the ball back in the middle of the table and it returned to it's natural color. He glanced around the room and it seemed that no one else had noticed anything happen.
“What is it? How does it work?” Tom was thoroughly intrigued now.
“I told you. It's magic.” Santa smiled at him.
“Magic huh.” Tom fingered the ball again before placing it back on the table. “Well, it's been interesting but I best be on my way. I have to hand it to you; you're the most authentic Santa Claus I've ever seen.” Tom stood to leave and Santa stood too.
“But you can't leave yet. I haven't told you how it works.” Santa stopped him with a gloved hand on Tom's arm.
“I'm really not interested in buying whatever it is. I don't have any kids to shop for. Maybe you should try someone else.” Tom said as he zipped his jacket.
“Oh my goodness; I'm not trying to sell it to you – it's yours. And it isn't exactly magic either; it was created by magic but what it is, is a time machine.” Santa explained.
“A time machine? Who are you, H.G. Wells?” Tom laughed and couldn't help but admit that he was enjoying this crazy old man.
“But I thought you knew – I'm Santa Claus!”
“Whew! I hope you don't mind if I rest here for a minute. I'm exhausted.” The old man said.
Tom couldn't take his eyes off of him. Never had a Santa looked so real to him. The red cheeks looked real and not made up, the long white beard, the long hair and bushy eyebrows looked real, and even the Santa suit looked like it was made out of a fine red wool with real fur cuffs and collar. This guy was top quality all the way.
“I was just leaving. You're welcome to the booth.” Tom stood to leave.
“Please – stay for a minute or two. I've been handing out candy and toys all day at the mall and it would be nice to have a grown up to talk with for a few minutes.” The old man said.
Tom sat back down, more out of curiosity than anything else. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Oh ho, ho, ho; my goodness, no. What would people think seeing Santa Claus drinking alcoholic beverages? Ho, ho, ho.” His chuckle seemed as real as everything else and the sight of this 'Santa' fascinated Tom.
“So I guess in a few days your work will be finished for this year?” Tom asked with a smile.
“Actually, tonight is my last night at the mall. Tomorrow I head home. I have a lot of work to get done before Christmas eve. I have one more gift that I must deliver before I can go. I think it's for you.”
“For me?” Tom raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Yes, sir. I'm sure of it. Here it is.” He placed a small red ball in the middle of the table and Tom stared at it.
“Thanks just the same but I gave up jacks years ago.”
“Ho, ho, ho. It's not a jack ball; oh my no. This ball is magic.” Santa picked up the ball, held it in the palm of his hand, closed his hand and squeezed. When he opened his hand again, the ball glowed bright red for an instant then returned to it's normal color.
“How'd you do that?” Tom asked and he picked up the ball and checked it out. It looked like a regular little red rubber ball to him. He could see no seams or a place where batteries might fit in.
“I told you. It's magic. You squeeze it. If you're the one it belongs to, it will light up this entire room.”
Tom chuckled and did as he was told. When he opened his hand the ball was glowing a brilliant red that filled the entire bar room. He quickly placed the ball back in the middle of the table and it returned to it's natural color. He glanced around the room and it seemed that no one else had noticed anything happen.
“What is it? How does it work?” Tom was thoroughly intrigued now.
“I told you. It's magic.” Santa smiled at him.
“Magic huh.” Tom fingered the ball again before placing it back on the table. “Well, it's been interesting but I best be on my way. I have to hand it to you; you're the most authentic Santa Claus I've ever seen.” Tom stood to leave and Santa stood too.
“But you can't leave yet. I haven't told you how it works.” Santa stopped him with a gloved hand on Tom's arm.
“I'm really not interested in buying whatever it is. I don't have any kids to shop for. Maybe you should try someone else.” Tom said as he zipped his jacket.
“Oh my goodness; I'm not trying to sell it to you – it's yours. And it isn't exactly magic either; it was created by magic but what it is, is a time machine.” Santa explained.
“A time machine? Who are you, H.G. Wells?” Tom laughed and couldn't help but admit that he was enjoying this crazy old man.
“But I thought you knew – I'm Santa Claus!”
©2011-2012 Donna McIntosh