Making Merry at Ned's

“You’re a little early,” said Ned. “I don’t start serving till eight.”

Santa scratched at his beard and took a seat at the bar.

“It's not booze I’m after,” said Santa. “I just need to get something off my chest, and yours was the only door open this morning. I could stand outside in the cold muttering to myself or I could warm myself in the company of a friendly face. You seem friendly enough.”

“It depends,” said Ned. “If you ain’t hitting me up for a free drink by the time that clock strikes eight, I’m the friendliest guy in town. What’s on your mind?”

“I smell coffee. Will twenty cents do it?”

“Twenty cents will even get you a refill if I ain’t too irritated by the time your done with the first. And you better start talking soon. It won’t be long before I’m flooded with the local boilermaker-before-work brigade. They’re a hearty bunch who expect me to serve with a smile, then send them out the door feeling merrier than when they came in. Like a priest offering benediction after mass. Now, what’s on your mind?”

“Christmas. What else?”

“Christmas? I didn’t figure you’d want to talk shop. I was hoping you were more of a baseball guy.”

“Baseball? It’s the day after Thanksgiving. Baseball’s last month’s news.”

“I could talk baseball all year round. No pun intended, but those winter sports leave me cold. Except for hockey maybe. I could see why a guy would want to clobber another guy with a big stick. I got a big stick of my own back here. It’s reserved for the filthy vermin that raid the joint when they think I ain’t looking.”

“You assault your fellow man with a stick?”

“Nah. I’m only mean when it comes to the rodents; my fellow man not so much. It was my old man’s night stick. He was a retired policeman. So far I’ve only used it once. That was to reign terror on an insulant rat who was romancing the cheese plate at the end of the bar. Funny thing was my old man only ever used his stick to clobber rats raiding the garbage cans on his beat. Sort of a family tradition. So, let’s move on to Christmas. What about it?”

“I’m getting to that. Let me get comfortable. Mind if I take off my hat?”

“Please do.”

“Thank you. I figure this is a safe place to be seen without it. I started going bald a few years back. No kid wants to see that.”

“Not sure I do either. Looks like you’ve been beat with a few night sticks yourself.”

“Knots on the head is a family curse and the ruination of my childhood. Every summer Dad would drag us kids to the barber shop for the annual mowing of our wee heads. I wore my cap all summer long. I couldn’t take the humiliation.”

“Barber shop?” said Ned. “Every summer my ol’ man got out the straight razor and chased us kids around the flat until he had our heads all good and mutilated. I still get chills thinking about it. Now, what is it about Christmas that got you coming through my door looking so glum.”

“I’m a Salvation Army Santa and today’s my first day on the job. 86th street outside Woolworth’s. I’ve never been a Santa before.”

“That’s a busy corner, Santa. You should haul in a lot of coins.”

“That would be nice. Only, I get the shakes thinking about it.”

“Ah, that’s just nerves. You’ll get over it after a few good ho, ho, hos.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. I’ll even start you off with two bits for the bucket.”

“That’s awful kind. I go on in a hour and . . .”

“Hold that thought, Santa. I got my first customer coming in.”

Vinny the postman stood at the bar and gave Santa the once over.

“Boilermaker, Ned. Make it a double. And give Santa whatever he’s having. I’m in a holiday spirit today.”

“I’m not much of a drinker,” said Santa. “But that’s an interesting combination of drinks you’re having.”

“Short beer and whisky. Nothing like it to clear the shakes in the morning.”

“Really? Then I’ll take you up on your kind offer. I’ve the shakes, as well.”

“You heard the man, Ned. Do your civic duty and help straighten out a fellow worker.”

“I don’t think sending a sidewalk Santa out drunk his first day on the job counts as a civic duty.”

“It’s okay, Ned,” said Santa. “I’ll be fine.”

Jimmy the butcher came in and made his way to the bar where his drinks sat waiting.

“Thanks, Ned. It’s funny how right after Thanksgiving you get the spirit of Christmas in the air. I haven’t felt this merry in a long time. And to be standing next to Santa makes it extra special. Give the jolly one whatever he’s having.”

“I think Santa’s gotta be getting to work about now. He don’t wanna be late.”

“That’s okay, Ned,” said Santa. “I’ve got plenty of time. Besides, I’m starting to feel better already. I’ll accept the gentleman’s generous offer.”

“It’s your funeral,” said Ned. “I only hope you don’t get buried too deep.”

“Did someone say buried?” It was Mr. Stanley of Stanley’s Funeral Home. “Drinks are on me!” he cried. “Business is booming this year! Sadly, of course.”

“Ah, geez,” said Ned.

***

Outside Woolworth’s the sidewalk Santa made a merry noise.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas! Please give generously! No amount is too small! Ho! Ho! Ho!”

“Hey, I’d know that voice anywhere,” said Sal the dry cleaner. “What on earth are you doing out here, Ned? I was just coming to see you.”

“I took the rest of the day off. My wife’s running the show now. Tell her if she ain’t got that Santa sobered up by lunchtime, I’ll be late for supper.”

The things one does for his fellow man, thought Ned. Civic duty, indeed.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas! And don’t miss the bucket! I’m not chasing after any coins!”

 

Photo courtesy of Wiki: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:MerryOldSanta.jpg