Tales from the Santa Claus Tavern - Part 4

The bartender filled the bowls with peanuts and placed them along the old oak bar.

“How come you ever have nothing but peanuts?” said one Santa.

“How come you ask me that same question every year?” said the bartender. “You get peanuts because you’re not getting cashews, pistachios or macadamian nuts. My name’s not Rockefeller, it’s Pete. A good solid name. A poor guys name. And this poor guy can only afford peanuts and putting up with you guys once a year.”

“I’m just saying,” said the Santa. “A little variety is in order. Like, how about some hard boiled eggs? It wouldn’t have to cost much. You could get a chicken and put it in the kitchen.”

“Just a chicken?” said Pete. “Is this a magic chicken?”

“How do you mean?”

“Don’t you think I’d be needing a rooster to pitch some woo to this chicken?”

“Oh, I get it,” said the Santa.

“And just how long do you think I’d keep my regular customers if my kitchen’s cocka-doodle-dooing all day long?”

“All I’m saying,” said the Santa, “is that a lot of these Santa’s don’t have many teeth left, and some don’t have any teeth at all. Try handling a mouthful of peanuts with nothing to chew them with. They don’t go down too easy.”

“I see what you mean,” said Pete. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Since it’s only once a year, I’ll splurge.”

“Ah, I knew you was a good one, Pete,” said the Santa.

Pete slid open the service panel to the kitchen and told the cook to put on a pot of eggs.

“And get some salt shakers out here, too,” said Pete. “A hard boiled egg is nothing without the salt.”