The War on the War on Christmas [SCC2016]

“Take your ‘Happy Holidays’ and shove it!’ cried Jesus as he drove a bone crushing right cross into the saccharine-smiling face of the Wal-Mart cashier taking his payment. “You are completely missing the spirit of the holiday!” he shouted down to the now unconscious cashier, fists balled at his side. “Get with the program, this crap has gone on for too long!”.

Storming out of the super center, white robes whipping behind him, he stopped only long enough to flip over an end display of jumbo-sized cheese puffs near the exit and vanished into the snowy December evening.

The War had been waging for years. It had started imperceptibly at first, a few less carolers here, a couple less twinkle lights there, until it blew up into full on conflict. The latest screaming headline blaring the gory details of the suicide bomber who ran into a nativity scene erected on his home town’s village green. The devastating carnage of the Three Wise Men and their camels blow to fiberglass pieces, along with the headless Virgin Mary laying prone next to the cradle, was seared into the consciousness of every person fighting for the right to place an inflatable Santa display in their front yard without fear of reprisal.

Sides were drawn, families and neighborhoods divided, everyone uncertain where the next assault and subsequent retaliation would take place. Would the tradition of Christmas card mailing now be ridiculed? Would someone snipe your carefully placed reindeer off the roof? How long before you could not even smooch your sweetie underneath a suspended twig from a toxic shrub? The country was in turmoil.



Young Timmy hobbled over to the dinner table carrying a Lennox platter of his mom’s famous Tuna Helper (minus the tuna) in one hand while he steadied himself on his crutch with the other. He had been engrossed in watching the nightly news and its incessant coverage of all things depressing when his mother asked him to help see the table. Despite an interesting breaking news story, he eagerly rose to assist her. He never wanted to be a burden so the chance to help gave him an opportunity to give back and feel productive. His affliction had gotten worse over the past year but his family had been unable to take him to the pediatrician due to the mounting bills.

His sister Martha was already seated and was totally engrossed in sending duckface selfies via Snapchat to her friend Belinda. He placed the food on the table and struggled into his chair, the Waterford crystal glasses clinking as he bumped the table in his efforts.

“Watch out, dork, don’t spill anything on my iPhone 9!”, his sister admonished.

“Sorry, sis, my leg really hurts tonight.”

“Maybe Santa can bring you a new one.” she quipped.

Timmy almost took the bait and said something in reply but he caught himself, it was Christmas Eve after all and even though Martha could be an insensitive person at times he still loved her just like he loved all his family.

“Hey kids,” their mother called as she walked out from the kitchen, toting a steaming pot of instant ramen to the table, “let’s eat!”

“What about dad?” Timmy asked plaintively.

“He said he was stuck at the mall, kiddo, Mr. S has had him working late.”

“I don’t know why he even has that second job.” Martha stated while not looking up, her head still buried in her phone, the distinctive sounds of outbound texts punctuating her comment.

“Well, the bills won’t get paid on the own dear” she replied, her perfectly coifed blond hair accentuated by the gorgeous diamond earrings that dangled half way down her neck. “You dad is doing his best to provide for this fam…”

She was interrupted by her husband as he threw the front door open, snow blowing behind him as he dragged a large box through the threshold. “Merry Christmas everyone!”

“Dad!” Timmy exclaimed, “you made it!”

“I did, buddy, and look what I have!”

“What is it dad?” Martha asked, now cruising her friend’s Instagram feed.

“Just what the Doctor ordered! A brand-new Samsung 4K 52” flat panel!”

“Ohhhh, Bob,” his wife cooed “how?”

“Well, Emily, the tyrant let me out early for the holiday so I stopped by Best Buy and, well, I best bought! No expense spared for my family.”

“What will we do with the 48 incher in the family room now?” Emily asked.

“We can put in the guest room or maybe in the storage unit.” He said matter of factly as his wife nodded in agreement.

“Well, enough about that, I’m home let’s eat!” He exclaimed as he took off his Zegna overcoat and headed to the table.

Bob was just about to seat himself when a thunderous knock came at the door.

“Whoever could that be?” His wife asked perplexed.

“I don’t know,” Bob replied “but whoever it is must be crazy, it’s a howler out there and with all the craziness going on it’s not exactly the safest night to be wandering around.”

“Do you think it’s carolers, dad?” Timmy piped in, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I doubt it, buddy boy. You could get yourself seriously yelled at if you try to spread Christmas cheer these days. I better see who it is though.”

Bob strided over to the door a flung it open. The wind whistled as icy flakes of snow blew into the entryway. From the table, Emily, Martha and Timmy could see the figure of a white robed man, his medium length beard and mustache coated with snow while his long hair danced in the wind around his head.

“Uh, who…. who are you?” Bob asked puzzled.

“May I come in?” said the mysterious stranger and, jot waiting for a reply, confidently walked into the house.

“My, what a lovely home you have.” Said the stranger sincerely to Emily as he gazed around, taking in the Italian leather sofas, beautiful Persian rug, the radiant chandelier hanging over the dinner table and the spectacularly decorated Douglas Fit Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, it base laden with gifts. “The winds are cold but my heart is warm and I would very much be honored if I could join your family on this festive night.”

Bob walked from the unclosed door wordlessly, his mouth agape. “Are you, uh, you look like…” he trailed off, unable to complete his query.

“I am a friend on a cold night. A stranger who brings the spirit of the holiday to those who wish it.” The charming man said as he took a seat next to Timmy.

Emily, who was fixated on their uninvited but utterly charismatic guest was roused from her unabashed ogling.

“Uh…right, yes. Sure!” she said rising and heading over to the china cabinet where she grabbed an extra Rosenthal place setting and laid it in front of their visitor.

“Um. I hope you like Tuna Helper. It doesn’t have any tuna but the kids still like it.”

Martha made a gagging face and tagged someone on Facebook.

“Good evening, young lady.”

“Sup.” Nodded Martha as she updated her Tumblr profile.

“Are you not thankful for your mother’s wonderful cooking? On this of all nights we should be grateful for the bounty which we receive.”

Martha simply rolled her eyes.

“Well, I for one am grateful for your generosity. As a pescetarian I appreciate your humble offering.”

Emily seemed perplexed, “A what?”

“Someone who eats fish.” He replied which caused all of them to nod dreamily in agreement.

Their reverence was broken when the front door slammed shut from the wind and caused them all to whip their heads around in surprise. When they returned their attention to the unexpected guest they were stunned to see a small tuna resting atop his mound of Helper.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Bob exclaimed as Timmy gaped in awe.

“The Lord provides my dear friends. Shall we?” he said and nodded towards his plate.

“Uh, dad, I need to tal…” Timmy began.

“Not now Timbo,” his father replied, we have a guest, and turning his attention to their guest, “We’re not really into sushi but knock yourself out.” And retook his seat.

As they all tucked into their meal their unusual guest broke the silence. “You seem ill at ease this evening. What troubles you?”

Bob looked up, a forkful of tuna-less Helper half way to his mouth and said without a iota of doubt in his voice, “Well, I would think you of all people would know.”

“Know what, my son?”

“That there’s a War on Christmas, on all the values we hold dear.”

“I see, a ‘war." the stranger responded, drawing put the last word, "What exactly, my child, is being attacked? Your ability to help your fellow man, to assist those less fortunate than yourself? To spread charity and bring cheer to those who suffer?”

“Uh, no, not exactly.” Bob demurred.

“Perhaps it is the ability to spend time with those you love and forsake the material over the spiritual? To be thankful for a life of good health and happiness?”

“No, not that either.” Bob replied somewhat testily.

“Then what my dear friend? What is it that is under attack?”

“Our ability to have everyone say ‘Merry Christmas’ to us! To get our Starbucks in a cup that has a tree on it instead of some generic ‘happy holidays’! To go to our towns nativity scene without it being all cluttered up with menorahs and other junk!”

“Satan’s work.” Emily hissed.

Bob’s voice was now raising noticeably. “We just want to go to our kid’s Christmas pageant at school and hear them sing Joy to the Goddamn World!”

The stranger slammed his utensils down and gave Bob a frigid stare, “You blaspheme, friend.”

“Well, it just makes me so angry! Heck, I remember when we used to go to church and the minister said something about having hope on Christmas. Now I just hope it comes and goes as fast as possible!”

The stranger held Bob’s gaze for a few moments and then moved it to the other members of the household. Even Martha tore herself away from her phone to gaze into the compassionate and compelling eyes of this now somber Christmas Eve guest.

“Perhaps, my dear children, you have lost the meaning of this wondrous day. You surround yourself with needless frivolity,” he said using his knife to point at Bob’s platinum Presidential Rolex with the diamond bezel.

“You chose the tangibility of the material,” he continued, waving his hands at their opulently-appointed home, “instead of what is truly tangible. That of love for one another. I am saddened for all of you as true joy escapes you and instead you opt for feigned martyrdom and gaudy trinkets. For wealth of objects instead of wealth of life. Do you love your neighbor or do you shun him as his television does not have super-amazing high-quality 2160p?”

The family hung its head in shame as the stranger continued his sermon.

“Where have you gone astray? Where has the spirit of kindness and warmth gone from your lives? Why are you more concerned with what others think of you than of how you conduct yourself? Ignore those who you think are attempting to minimize what you know is right and actually do what which you know is right. Your only son sits here before you, crippled and in pain, yet you lavish in baubles and items empty of spirit. Behold!” he shouted and burst to his feet, his chair toppling behind him.

He knelt next to Timmy as the rest of the family looked on in a mix of horror and anticipation. Tossing away Timmy’s crutch the stranger interlaced his hands and cracked his knuckles in a dramatic fashion and then, with one hand, grasped the stunned Timmy’s bad leg by the ankle. Pulling the damaged appendage towards him so it straightened, he placed his other hand on Timmy’s knee, muttered a prayer under his breath and pressed done firmly.

Timmy’s shock did not register instantly but took a moment for the overwhelming pain in his knee to reach his brain. When it did he let out a wail that nearly shattered the crystal stemware.

Bob rose angrily and made to confront the stranger.

“Hey! What did you do to my so…” he began but the stranger rose slowly and lightly touched him on the chest.
“Shhh…be still friend.” And lightly returned Bob to his seat.

“Timmy,” his mother asked, “are you alright?”

Timmy’s grimace began to fade and as he rose gingerly from his seat, wary about placing too much weight on his leg, the stranger gave him a nod and a smile, at which point Timmy stood, wobbled and then smiled as he placed all his weight on his formerly bad leg.

“It’s a miracle!” Emily shouted as Martha snapped a quick photo of the now fully mobile Timmy to place on their wall.

“Oh my Go…I mean, gosh!” Bob exclaimed. “How did you do that?”

The stranger merely shrugged and lowered his head in humility.

“We need to call my mom!” Emily stated and bolted for the kitchen phone.

“Yeah,” Bob added,” and we should celebrate! I know you like wine,” he said to the stranger, “how about some champagne?”

Emily grunted and left to make her way into the kitchen for a piece of pie, face still buried in her phone.
To which the stranger only smiled meekly.

As Emily talked frantically with her mother and Bob struggled with the champagne cork Timmy leaned over the stranger and said pointedly, “I know who you are.”

“I know you do, my son, I saw it the moment I came in your family’s home.”

“But how did you do that?” he asked motioning towards his knee.

“Well, young man, you had a calcium buildup on your patella which, when I applied an overwhelming amount of force on, released from the surrounding tissue and allowed you full mobility.”

“Huh” said Timmy as he fell back in his seat.

There were cries of joy from the kitchen as both Bob and Emily exclaimed their intent to renew their mission to enjoy the season for what its true purpose stood for. As Bob poured the champagne the play argued about which neighbor to invite over first, regardless of beliefs, to enjoy the Christmas spirit and share in the joy which was family.

The stranger watched in bemused enjoyment before turning his attention back to Timmy.

“Your parents would have known that had they taken you to the doctor instead of buying all this s***.” The stranger said nodding around to all their material acquisitions. “This wasn’t like you were blind or had cancer or something.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. But what are you going to do now? You know they are still looki…”

But Timmy did not get a chance to finish as the door once again blew open and two white-coated men, both of large stature and build, stood in the portal. One of them grasping a folded up garment in his hands.

“Say, you two, what do you think you’re doing barging into our home on this joyous occasion?” Bob bellowed as he put his champagne flute on the kitchen counter.

Neither man paid him any heed and instead their gaze was fixed on the benevolent, bearded man kneeling at young Timmy’s side. They stood staring at each other as the wind whistled into the home. The tension was almost unbearable until one of the interlopers barked, “Jesús Juan Sosa-Hernandez! Let’s go, fun’s up for the evening, time to go back!” as his companion unfurled what was now obviously a strait jacket.

Jesús walked meekly over to the orderlies and allowed himself to be fastened into a familiar comfort.

“What, tha…” Bob began, “who are you people?” as Emily fainted dead away.

“We’re with Overlook Hospital. We’re really sorry about this but he manages to sneak out every once in a while. He’s never gotten this far so it kinda caught us by surprise. We followed a few eyewitness reports that had him in this neighborhood and we happened to get a peak in your window and saw him sitting here.”

“Yeah,” the other orderly chimed in, “we figured you knew who it was and were just trying to distract him.”

‘Distract him?” Bob stammered and then trailed off. He never even noticed Martha live streaming the entire encounter on Periscope.

“We thought you watched the news and had an idea what was going on.”

“I watched the news!” The now mobile Timmy blurted. “I tried to tell you dad, but you…”

“Not now Timmy,” as he shushed his son and turned his direction back to the orderlies, “Is he dangerous?”

Jesús gave Bob a pained look as they finished lacing him into the jacket.

“No, not particularly, only if you don’t listen to him. Then he has a tendency to get punchy.” One of them stated bluntly.

“Well,” the other chimed in, “all done here. Ready to go home buddy?”

“Yes, Orderly Luke.” Said Jesús meekly. “Do you think I can get some bread when we get back? I never got to eat all my fish.”

“Sure you can, buddy,” the other replied, “me and Matt will even bring you a wafer cookie too.”

Bob and Timmy stood dumbfounded as they bundled the stranger out the door. “Well, son,” Bob said with much affection, “you know I love you.”

“I love you too Dad. Do you think we should wake Mom up?”

“Nah, let her rest, this was a bit overwhelming.” and tousled his son’s hair.

“Alright folks, really sorry about all this. Try and have a good Christmas.” Said Luke.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas everyone.” Said Matt.

Bob and Timmy waved from the kitchen as the orderlies departed with their former house guest. But only Timmy caught the surreptitious and knowing wink that Jesús threw them both.

“Whew,” Luke said under his breath as they trudged out into the whipping winter wind, “that could have been scary.”

“Yeah,” Matt replied, “we would have gotten crucified if it was.”

wow!

Nice one Gus!

G

Well done! I sometimes asked myself, if Jesus would hit this place now, would he ever have a chance?
The hypocrite father sure learned his lesson ^^

Happy Holidays!

a reply to: dfnj2015
There is no santa clause, only the christ child. Now cope with that!

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus

Loved Your Tale! Nice job!! Syx...

a reply to: Gordi The Drummer

Thank you.

originally posted by: verschickter

Well done! I sometimes asked myself, if Jesus would hit this place now, would he ever have a chance?
The hypocrite father sure learned his lesson ^^

Thank you.

Are you asking where someone with a Messiah complex might end up? Hmmm.

originally posted by: dfnj2015
Happy Holidays!

Merry Chanukah.

a reply to: SyxPak

Thank you.

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus

Well, if he starts making vino out of water, you know you got the wrong one.

originally posted by: verschickter
Well, if he starts making vino out of water, you know you got the wrong one.

If he was around now I would hope it would be bourbon out of water.

I may even be enticed to sign up at that point.

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus
There is a joke that came to my mind.

Little Fritz was on it´s way to church with his grandma but could not manage to eat his butter-bread before they reached the doors. So his grandma ordered him to put down the bread on the side of the door "you can eat it later little fritz". Half way into the ceremony, the pastor reaches out his hands and tells his fellow churchmembers "Jesus is waiting in front of our door, and he´s hungry for...". Suddenly little Fritz jumps up in panic, running for the door while screaming "I hope he doesn´t eat my butter-bread, I hope he doesn´t eat my butter-bread!"

a reply to: verschickter

And who said Germans had no sense of humor?



(I think it was the Brits)

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus

Great story, but what did he have against giant sized cheese puffs and why didn't he just turn the water into wine...oh wait, champagne was it?

originally posted by: InTheLight
Great story, but what did he have against giant sized cheese puffs and why didn't he just turn the water into wine...oh wait, champagne was it?

Thanks.

I suppose it was the excess that disturbed him.

a reply to: AugustusMasonicus

Too funny!

Bravo!

Great twist at the end, never saw it coming.

originally posted by: TNMockingbird
Too funny!

Bravo!

Thanks.

Great twist at the end, never saw it coming.

Neither did he.