• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 276 0

story was ready to make a speech. “Long ago, on a cold night not unlike this one, our world was deprived of its natural order by the birth of a child in a manger. This babe, friend of shepherds and the feeble, wrapped in dirty rags and surrounded by the stench of farm animals, treated the lowest like kings and replaced the impossible with miracles. By His touch, cripples walked again. Or some cripples. He left the rest of His work to a world that does not consistently, fairly reflect His philosophy. The result is that, in many instances, the weak, the ugly, the crippled are left behind without dignity or power. Until now.”

The crowd gave Not So Tiny Tim a bloodthirsty roar, but the giant with a big stick wasn’t done. “We, the ugly, the maligned, the Misfits are about to change things. The Child grew and taught that one should put others before oneself, to lose—on purpose. One such believer, Kris Kringle, was so hell-bent on reflecting the spirit of the Child’s standard that he began making and giving toys to children all over the world. His only condition was that the children try and display the same commitment to the Golden Rule, so called, of being good, completely ignoring that they rarely appreciated the toys he gave. Santa also seemed oblivious that these children grew and filled the world with people who easily forgot the Misfits. And yet, Santa insisted that the toys he gave be perfect. It isn’t fair, so tonight we are taking matters into our own hands. After tonight, Santa Claus will usher in the truth of the world at Christmas. The ugly truth.”

Someone turned on a spotlight and pointed it in my direction. The light bounced off the golden rings like a sunrise and the only ones in the crowd that didn’t cheer at the sight were too busy covering their eyes from the reflection. The feathers on all the birds raised up like hackles. The geese honked like tugboats and the swans hissed like cobras. The French hens knitted so furiously, you could see sparks fly off the needles.

“I want his head,” said Turtle Dove Punch.

“No, I want his head,” Turtle Dove Judy shouted back.

“We all get his head,” growled the partridge, muscling the pear stick. “Because I’m gonna knock it into about fifty little pieces!”

I was scared right down to the ends of my curly elf shoes, but I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. “Got any aspirin?” I asked with a smirk.

Not So Tiny Tim let the storm peak and then raised his hand. “What you see before you is Gumdrop Coal, a traitor to our way of thinking. He is loath to admit it, but deep down, Gumdrop agrees with us but will not embrace our mission. In his silly heart, he would still save Santa, save a Christmas that has ‘perfect’ gifts and ‘perfect’ memories.”

More boos, but they were wrong. At the end of the day, Christmas was right. It was good. It was me that had the screw loose, but I didn’t know how to fix it. I looked at the moon again, waiting for my wish to be granted. I was running out of time.

“Therefore, by the power vested in me,” Not So Tiny Tim said, “I hereby sentence Gumdrop Coal to death, to be administered by the Twelve Days of Christmas Birds. Does the condemned have any final words?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t I get a blindfold and a peppermint stick in a situation like this?”

“You’re stalling,” Not So Tiny Tim said. “I have no doubt that you could nurse a peppermint stick for many Christmases yet to come. So no, face your death alone. Santa will not save you. Then maybe you’ll believe the truth.”

“Come off it, Tim,” I said. “Come back across the bridge with me. Be that little boy that inspired good in everyone again. Tiny Tim has real power over there. Good power. What do you say?”

“You’re a fool, Gumdrop Coal,” Not So Tiny Tim said, but I could see I got to him. “What are you doing?”

“Hoping for a Miracle on 34th Street, I guess.”

Not So Tiny Tim thought about it. I think he almost believed that his former life had made a difference and that he had taken a wrong turn. But the crowd started to boo me and scream for my head. Not So Tiny Tim gave me a sad smile.

“A