Excerpt from The Samuel Do-Good Letters,
by Stephen Richter, 2007:
The Night before Christmas
It was the night before Christmas, and I drank beer in my house
It was pretty darned quiet as I slowly got soused.
I was sittin’ at the table and I knew it was late
when I had visions of sugar plums in my drunken state. (They were dancing, too!)
(I hate sugar plums! I hate visions of sugar plums! Especially the dancing kind. I don’t even know what a sugar plum is).
The empty beer bottles were strewn on the floor
I went to the kitchen thinking “I’ll have just one more.”
But there was some racket outside, so I looked through the curtain
I couldn’t see much, but I wanted to be certain. (Plus, the damn sash got in the way, and I ripped it down – I’ve never seen much use for a sash anyhow.)
Then what to my suspicious eyes did appear –
This fat guy in a sled with a bunch of flying deer!
He had a big bag that was brimming with junk, and I thought to myself, “I’ll take care of this punk!”
He cried out to his flying deer, each one by name
While I, at my window, with shotgun took aim.
He was obviously no pro ‘cuz he made such a clatter
And I ran to the stairs to take care of this matter.
They were up on my rooftop, a strange place to be for deer, sled, or man (or any one of the three).
“This trespassing fat man has gotta be stopped!” I thought as the trespassing fat man hopped from his sled to my rooftop, and I listened for more;
The thief didn’t try any window of door!
He just came down the chimney, which is something I thought highly peculiar and a tad ridiculous.
I ran down the stairs with a gun and an axe
I was amply prepared for any sudden attacks.
There he stood in my living room, in a red suit
holding onto a bag which held stolen loot.
“Nobody enters my house uninvited!” I cried, taking aim. “Actually, nobody enters my house invited, either, come to think about it.”
His silence unnerved me, this fat man in red
flying in unannounced with his deer and his sled.
And then he laughed, and it sorta reminded me of when someone shakes up jelly in a bowl. He seemed obviously unfit for a profession of breaking and entering.
We stared at each other, and in my living room stood;
Then he asked me a question: “Have you, sir, been good?”
That question stumped me and I had to think twice. He asked me again: “Have you been naughty or nice?”
The man in the red suit patiently waited. This oddball was making me a tad irritated.
“Look here!” I announced. “I was doing alright, until YOU came along with your deer in the night! That clatter on the roof scared all the mice. Now I’ll ask YOU a question: Was THAT very nice?!”
“Most people”, he said, “would consider me very nice,” and he did that annoying jelly bowl laugh again.
This guy was a felon, and he needed to hide.
I pointed to his loot. “Drop the sack! What’s inside?”
And out of the sack spilled about one thousand toys
All stolen, of course, from good girls and boys.
The evidence was clear, and I acted quick.
I tied up the man as he cried, “I’m St. Nick!!”
“And I’m Mother Theresa!” I said, tying the knot. “You say that you’re nice, but I suspect that you’re not!”
“You’ve made a mistake! Check my wallet! It’s true!” the fat man on the floor said. “I’ll prove that I’m Santa! I’ll prove it to you!”
I reached in his pocket and found his I.D.
I looked at his picture, and he smiled and said, “See?”
“Your I.D.’s expired, and probably fake. Is your beard even real?” And I gave it a shake.
“OW!” cried the fat man who then became mad. “YOU, sir, are most decidedly BAD!
I’ve brought you a present, but now perhaps not!”
I tried to remember the last present I got. A couple years back someone got me a bag of sugar plums or something. Or jelly in a bowl. I don’t remember.
“How about we bargain?” I said to St. Nick. “You give me a present, and I’ll let you go quick.”
“Do you promise to be nice, and not bad, but be good?”
“I just want my present, and I think that you should remember who’s tied up and who’s got the gun.”
He agreed to the present, so I let the guy run.
He went up the chimney, the way he had come.
(Did he not care for doors? Was he just plain old dumb?)
He’d left me a package with a note just for me.
I wondered why a convict would give stuff for free.
But the spirit of Christmas was filling my soul
The spirit of Getting Stuff made me feel whole.
Getting Stuff on Christmas was surely the goal.
I unwrapped the gift and found a chunk of black coal.
O, Christmas delight! I had fuel for my heat!
The Christmas spirit swelled from my head to my feet!
And I spied the old fat man flying his deer;
He cried out something to me that I assumed was just gibberish, so I shut the window.
The evening had tired me, and I needed a beer.
I like Christmas alright, but just once a year.
—From The Samuel Do-Good Letters, copyright Stephen Richter, 2007
