“What’s
that? Up in the sky?”
“Is it a
man? Is it a giant bird?”
“Is it
glowing? Is it all lit up?’
“Is it
wearing underwear over
its clothes?”
The crowd
mumbled and
shuffled in
the cold December
night as
they gazed skyward at
the curious
red object streaking
through the
winter air.
“Is that…?
Christmas Man?!”
“It is! It’s
Christmas Man!”
“Hooray,
here to save us all!”
“He’ll save
us, I’m sure of it!”
“Oh, lucky
day!”
Christmas
Man defender of
cheer and
goodwill toward man,
a man of Yule
and merry tidings,
a superhero
born to bring hope,
and a Union chimney
sweeper.
“I hope he
can help me carry my
heavy
shopping bags to my car!”
“I hope he
salts this slippery sidewalk!”
“I hope he
keeps my crazy Uncle quiet
during
Christmas dinner!”
Christmas
Man waved to the crowds
as he zoomed
overhead. He had a mission
this night.
A mission of mercy for the
needy. A
mission to save Christmas from
sadness.
“Hey!
Christmas Man! Where are you
going!?”
“Yeah, hey
buddy, what the heck!”
“Salt this
slippery sidewalk!”
“Where’s he
going? What a Jerk!”
Christmas
Man flew over the city,
he flew over
the country, his red cape
trimmed in
white fur, flapping behind
him in his
speedy flight. He waved when he
could to the
people below.
“Up yours
Christmas Man!”
“Get bent
Christmas Man!”
“Salt this
sidewalk!”
“Get lost
Christmas Man!”
“You’re a
flash in the pan!”
Christmas
Man had no time
for their
jibes. Yet he did wipe
a small tear
from the corner of
his eye. It
might have been from
the cold
wind in his face.
“Christmas
Man, what a joke.”
“He only
comes one time a year.”
“I fell on
this slippery sidewalk!”
“I’ve never
actually met him.”
“Yeah, he’s
never done anything for me.”
The crowds
on the city streets dispersed,
the country
folks went back inside the
businesses
on Main Street. They griped
and grumbled
and fixed their collars against
the cold.
Christmas Man
arrived at a small
village where
a water borne
sickness had
ravaged the villagers.
He offered
to set up a Christmas tree,
with lights
and bells.
“No thank
you Christmas Man,” said the Doctor,
“but maybe
you can hold that child there and
provide her
some comfort in her last minutes.”
Christmas
Man looked at the small girl, weak from
sickness,
taking slow sluggish breaths.
“How about I
sing a little Oh, Little Town
of
Bethlehem,” asked Christmas Man.
“Um, sure
Christmas Man, just stay out
of the way,”
said the exhausted Doctor.
“Great! I’m
sure that’ll help,” said Christmas Man.
The Doctor
rolled his eyes as Christmas Man
began to
sing. The child turned away.
The doctor
moved on to the next sick child as
Christmas
Man sang with his eyes closed, willing
the Spirit
of good tidings to manifest.
“What is
that madman doing?”
“I think he’s
singing.”
“Why doesn’t
he help clean the water?”
“I don’t
think that’s what he does.”
“Who does
then?”
Christmas
Man finished his song.
A few
villagers still able to move applauded
politely.
Christmas Man gave them a quick
salute and
turned to the center of the village,
“Merry
Christmas to All,” he said with a wave.
Christmas
Man shot up into the sky leaving
a trail of
Christmas lights and the smell of
hot
Gingerbread in his wake.
“Son of a biscuit,”
said the Doctor.
“Is it
really Christmas,” asked a sick villager.
“It is. It
really is, somewhere” said the Doctor.
Somewhere
there were sleigh bells jingling,
and church
bells were ringing, and a distant
chorus sang
carols on the night breeze.
“It is
Christmas,” said the Doctor.
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