Tree-Mendous

A Christmas Story

ID 39786555 | Sad Christmas Tree © Bizoon | Dreamstime.com

Dear Readers--

I hope you are enjoying a special day with loved ones. For those of you who must work the holiday, please know that I worked in healthcare delivery on many, many Christmas days. Patients do appreciate you. To our emergency responders, please stay safe and warm. To our retail workers, you are saints! Everyone be a little kinder to each other and hug your loved ones tight, especially now. I'd like to share a little flash fiction in the spirit of the season. I call it:

Tree-Mendous

“It’s Christmas. You haven’t done anything about a tree.”

Andy put a pillow over his head to muffle his wife’s voice.

“I’m going to work. When I get home, I expect to see a tree in our living room.” She poked his shoulder through the cover. “Got that?”

He said YES, but it came out more like YETH. Eight hours. Plenty of time. He rolled over and went back to sleep. The next time he looked at the clock it was three in the afternoon. He kicked the blanket off and raced out the door.

The corner lot was empty. He begged the manager. “My wife will kill me. Don’t you have anything left?”

“There’s one tree no one wants.” He took Andy behind the building and pointed. A balding pine tree missing half its branches leaned on the brick wall.

“How much?”

“I don’t feel right taking anything for it. Tell you what. The next bum you see, give him whatever you would have paid for a good tree. Okay?”

Andy left, dragging the ugly stick behind him.

A geezer with rheumy eyes and a gray scraggly beard stepped into his path. “Spare some change?”

Andy reached into his pocket and found a hole where his money should have been. “I’m so sorry, but...” Disappointment flared in the elder’s eyes. “I have an idea. Come home with me. We have lots of food.”

“Won’t your wife mind?”

Andy shrugged. “I made two promises today. Guess we’ll see which one matters.”

Andy trudged the block home chattering about sports. He dragged the tree upstairs and dropped it in the foyer.

Mary stood with her fists on her hips. “There you are!” A strange look crossed her face. “Andy, where did you get that—”

“He needs a meal. We have lots of food.”

He turned. The bum was gone. In his stead was a spectacular tree, decked in bells—and on the top, a figurine of an old man with a long white beard and a twinkle in his eye.