 |
 |
 |
|
Home DONATE 
Christmas Poems
A Christmas CarolA Soldiers Christmas (Tribute)Christmas PursuitSANTA IN BLUEThe Medics Christmas PoemTribute To The Firemen & FirewomenChristmas Recipes
DESSERTS
A Gingerbread HouseCute Holiday CookiesFrosty The SnowballIce Cream SnowMelt Away SnowballsMint Chocolate KissesMrs, Claus's Chocolate CakeRudolphs Cookie KissesSantas Favorite Peanut ButterSNOWMAN SOUPDRINKS
Christmas FloatSanta's PunchMEALS
Father Christmas SaladMrs. Claus Christmas SoupVariety Christmas SaladChristmas Storys
Little Girl Santa Claus Didn't KnowOLIVE the ORPHAN REINDEERSantas First TripeSnoopys Christmas 
Snoopys Christmas DreamStory Of The Candy CaneThe Christmas RoseThe First ChristmasThe Tin SoldierTwas the night before ChristmasHistory of the christmas treeA Christmas Tree for Santa
Page 1Page 2Page 3Virginiam There is a SantaPart 1Part 2Songs & Lyrics
Away in a MangerBeginning To Look Like ChristmasCarol of the BellsDeck the HallsFrosty the Snow ManGood King WenceslasHave Yourself a Merry ChristmasI Saw Mom Kissing Santa ClausJolly Old Saint NicholasLet it snowMr. Grinch "Theme Song"Rudolph the Red Nosed ReindeerSanta Claus Is Coming To TownSilent NightSilver BellsThe Christmas SongThe Little Drummer BoyThe Twelve Days of ChristmasUp On The HouseTopWe Wish You A Merry ChristmasWhite ChristmasWinter WonderlandJingle BellsGod Rest Ye Merry GentlemenOther
Christmas Sites AddedChristmas In Different LanguagesChristmas JokesAwards I WonSanta Claus FAQDisclaimer|
|
| A Christmas Tree for Santa |
 |
| PAGE 2 |
| ||||||
"Well Grandma and Grandpa don't have much money. They don't know I was listening, but I heard them talking. They came down here to the bank to get money so they could buy me a Christmas present. I don't need anything, but I don't want to hurt their feelings either. Christmas isn't about presents anyway, it's about the baby Jesus...isn't it Santa?" Charlie looked into Wendy's big brown eyes for a moment. He just wanted to take that wonderful little girl into his arms and hug her. After hearing so many children asking for expensive toys all day, it warmed his heart to hear this little angel speak of the true meaning of Christmas. "Yes Wendy, you're one hundred percent right. You sure are smart for such a little girl. So you've never had a Christmas tree?" "Nope." Charlie rubbed his beard again, seriously deep in thought. "Here I go again. I'm gonna get myself involved in things that ain't my business. What the heck, it's Christmas. What can they do, shave my head and send me to Bosnia?" A tug on his fake beard brought Charlie's attention back to Wendy. "I don't mean to be pushy, Santa, but Grandpa looks like he's ready to go. Do you think you could just throw a little tree on your sleigh for me tonight? I won't ask for anything else, but I've always dreamed of having a Christmas tree like everyone else." Charlie smiled, but before he could speak he noticed the old couple getting up from the loan officer's desk and walking away, an obvious look of pain and disappointment on their faces. He took young Wendy in his arms and lifted her back onto the floor as he stood. "Yes Wendy, you'll get your tree. I promise. In fact if you'll excuse me I'll get right to work on it!" Wendy could only watch as Charlie walked quickly across the lobby to the loan officer's desk. Bob, the loan officer looked up, somewhat surprised to see Santa Claus leaning over the front of the desk, beard draped over his computer screen. "What can I do for you Charlie...or should I say Santa Claus?" Charlie ignored his arrogant tone. "Bob, tell me something. Did those two old folks get their loan?" Bob shook his head. "No. Their only income is Social Security, and they are way too deep into debt." "Well how much did they want?" Bob snickered. "One hundred dollars. We don't make loans that small." Charlie felt his blood begin to boil. He leaned over the desk until he was eye to eye with the loan officer. Bob didn't like the look he saw in those eyes, and he liked Charlie's growling whisper even less. "You mean to tell me you turned down a loan for a measly $100 on Christmas Eve?" He let Bob stew under his glare before continuing. "My gosh Bob, you've always been a putz, but I never figured you for a Scrooge. A big shot like you couldn't just loan them folks the money yourself? You blow that much cash going to Happy Hour!" As Charlie rose and turned in disgust, Bob regained his courage and hissed, "Maybe that's why I've got money and you don't, loser!" Charlie turned back to Bob, his eyes cold and hard. He fought the urge to reach out and grab him by the neck and throttle him, knowing Santa beating up on someone, even if he was a jerk, would not look good. Charlie changed tactics, his eyes softening. "OK Bob, you have a job to do, I understand that. The old man upstairs would probably kick your butt for making a loan like that. Tell you what, we can skin this cat another way. How about you just give them the hundred bucks you owe me for playing Santa? I know I've got another hour, but what the heck, how about paying me now?" Charlie gave Bob his best used-car salesman look. Bob started to agree...then caught himself and laughed at Charlie. "Nice try pal, but you agreed to play Santa for free. I wasn't born yesterday. A deal is a deal, we don't owe you a cent." Charlie muffled a growl, then grinned innocently at Bob. "Well you can't fault a guy for trying Bob. I guess you're just too smart for me. OK, how about you just loan me $100?" Bob just laughed. "Sorry Charlie, you're probably a worse risk than those old folks are. I bet you don't have more than a dollar in your pocket, do you?" Charlie gave Bob a confident look. "Wrong answer Bob. I may not have a hundred bucks, but I've got lots more than a dollar." He had one dollar and twelve cents to be exact. Charlie saw the old couple walking towards the door, motioning Wendy to follow. His mind raced furiously, then an alternate plan hatched in his mind. He turned and gave Bob his most intimidating glare. "I'll deal with you later, count on it," he hissed before turning and running across the lobby. Shannon's eyes were not the only ones in the room that were surprised by Santa's sudden urge to emulate an OJ Simpson commercial as Charlie leapt over a couch on a dead run towards her. "Charlie what are you doing?" she whispered as he pulled up in front of her, his breathing coming just a bit heavy. "Shannon, I can't explain now. There's no time. I need a favor?" Shannon looked at Charlie, sizing him up for a moment before shaking her head. "Of course, Charlie, if I can." "Do you see those old folks and that cute little girl heading towards the door? I need you to stop them, stall them, keep them here until I get back?" "Get back? Where are you going?" "I just need to run home and grab something. I promise I'll explain later. I want you to think over a second favor while I'm gone too...lend me a hundred bucks?" Before Shannon could say anything he turned and ran to the door before the old couple could open it. "Wait folks. You can't leave yet. Do you see that pretty girl standing over there? She needs to talk to you. I think you won the door prize or something." Before they could reply, he winked at Wendy and ran out the door, leaving the old couple staring after him in confusion as Shannon walked over to greet them, just as confused as they were. ***** From the vantage point of his fully windowed office above the lobby, bank president Frank Talbot had been watching as his Santa Claus went berserk, then ran out of the building. "That darn Charlie," he thought out loud. "I knew we shouldn't have let that loose cannon play Santa Claus. That lout has been nothing but a pain in my neck as long as I've known him. I imagine I'd better go down and find out what's going on before I call the police. It would be best to keep this as quiet as possible. I spend money on these dog-and-pony shows for good publicity, not bad. I hope the moron doesn't come back with an Uzi and really ruin my Christmas." Talbot thought about that as he walked down his carpeted private staircase. "Maybe I'd better call the cops anyway?" ***** Charlie was out of breath after running the three blocks to his small bungalow, all uphill. His beard was hanging halfway off his face, and the Santa costume was soaked with sweat. He burst through the door and stopped, seeing what he came for immediately. He quickly walked over to the buffet and picked up his small, one foot tall, artificial Christmas tree, careful not to disturb any of the dozen small red ornaments he had hanging from it. He didn't even shut the door as he walked quickly back into the dusky late afternoon, carefully balancing the tree as he made his way down the hill back to the bank. ***** Shannon knew her boss had probably been watching everything from his office perch. He was always watching, like a hawk looking for prey. "Come to think of it, he even looks like a hawk." She tried to act casual as he walked across the lobby toward her with a stern look on his face. She hoped Charlie would get back soon, with a darn good story to boot. "Ms. Smith, just what in the name of Michael is going on down here?" Shannon hated the patronizing, scolding-father voice he always addressed her in. She knew he thought of her as just a dumb blonde, and had only hired her because of her looks. She didn't care. She was good at her job, and everyone else knew it. She didn't need his approval, but she did need the paycheck he signed, so she just did her job and let him think whatever he wanted. Page / 1 / 2 / 3 / |
 Sign Guestbook |
 View Guestbook |
| Nevada |
 Webmaster@saintnicksxmas.com |
|
. |
| Visitors: 01689 |