*****This is another result of a scribbles writing challenge producing 2 stories. The challenge was to do a Christmas story. I wrote "Fruitcake and the freezing moon" and posted it on 12/21/2010. The next day I felt the urge to write something completely different and this came out. Anybody familiar with my work knows that I tend to be somewhat over the top. My stories are bizarre and often times quite dark and violent. My roots though are in poetry and I have been known to turn out stuff that has a very large heart beating inside of it. When I started doing short stories my tales always seemed to end up going someplace very dark and nasty. This was one of the first I did that went in the opposite direction. I was quite proud of it when I wrote it, but had no idea what to do with it. I knew that if I had posted this on my old blog site few people would read it because it is pretty long. So, as happens so many times, I sat it aside and forgot about it. I did actually post it on the Girl Wood blog page and left it out there for a week or so. It got like 2 views and I ended up closing it up. A side note, there are some different versions of this story floating around. I put it on facebook once and sent it to a few people. Those versions had some glitches in it that I ended up fixing. This is the final and, in my opinion, best version so far. I started another story and have the outlines for a couple of others. Gene Hines will return..... and so will Ghetto Claus.*****
Christmas in the Ghetto. The favorite time of year for many. Children are playing in the streets, which if they're lucky enough, have been blanketed with a creamy layer of fluffy white frosting. A White Christmas. Who wants that? Lots of people, but not me. Once you go black you never go back. I heard that once and I must say that I whole-heartedly agree since that night after my third AA meeting. The night that would change my life and the way that I looked at Christmas forever.
At that point it had been three times standing in front of a room full of strangers and saying "Hi, my name is Gene and I'm an Alcoholic", and while it wasn't exactly overkill yet , I sure had grown sick and tired of doing it.
The meeting was over and I was walking to my car. A Hyundai. Hey, don't laugh. Ever since I tricked it out the babes have been falling all over me. Although maybe it was because of the time my picture was in the paper after I won the lottery. Before you get too excited and start calling your people to help find my people know that I don't have much of that money anymore. The women that come sniffing around don't seem to know that though.
A mans car is like the mechanical embodiment of his cock and I do have a nice one. You'd be surprised the reaction my Hyundai gets from these hookers when I open up the door for them. Oh, and whoever said that chivalry was dead was mis-informed. It's making a mad comeback these days. Just ask any female with blonde hair, blue eyes and big tits who lives or frequents down around 185th Street. I'm a big deal there. But that is another story.
So, where was I? Oh yeah, AA ....my car ....that night. Yeah, right ....sorry, I get loopy sometimes. All those years on the sauce made me kind of scatter-brained.
It was about 9:30 on Christmas Eve. At first I wondered why they would bother having one of these things on this night of all nights. But as the walking dead began to file through the door and fuse into their seats, the answer hit me like a drunken bum in a barfight. Christmas and all of its affiliated surroundings are about family and togetherness, and nobody in this room tonight has a trace of either one of these two things in their miserable excuse for a life. Any family that we have ever had would be chased away by the demon that erupted from within our souls after being doused with liquified venom.
So, while the rest of the free world gathers amongst themselves amidst a tree ripped from its rooted domain and passes boxes around the room to people that are otherwise ignored the remaining days on the calendar exempting birthdays and other recognized holidays ...here we sat ....the dregs of humanity. The wished we could just be forgotten altogether crew. Cast out as a result of the actions of the demons that plague us and forever immortalized in scorn by these actions.
I remember walking to my car and hearing a lot of commotion from a nearby alley. My primary objectives and social reserve usually entails, but is not limited to, wanting to get home and mix up a demonized cocktail or simply not giving a fuck about who or what goes on around me. Maybe the Christmas eve spirit had infected me at that moment. Okay, no .... I had to take a mean piss and this alley looked as good a place as any in which to do it. I wasn't going to let any ruckus going on prevent me from relieving myself.
I headed into the mouth of the crevice in the buildings on the block and before I could eye me out a a pile of rubble to shower with my lizard juice, I saw a group rocking that unequivocal manly swagger in what looked to be a massive gang ritual. A fight, maybe? This time of night and in this spot it was doubtful to be a hugging exercise of any kind.
The closer I became to the fracas, it appeared these men were beating the shit out of somebody. This just begged for being close, so even closer I got.
Wait a minute now ....Was that? .... What the?-
These men were not beating up anybody. They were-
Dancing?!
..... And the man at the center of it all .... was not just a man .... he was in a Santa Claus outfit. Obviously not the real Santa Claus because .... well, everybody knows that Santa Claus is not black.
The man dressed as Santa Claus was playing the saxophone in the center of the group of men, and these men were all dancing.
What did I just stumble onto? The whole scene looked like a commercial for Popeyes, except for the fact that all of the dancing men were white, and white people don't eat at Popeyes. They/we can't dance either and my own eyes were confirming this right at the very moment.
My back teeth were floating and once I realized that I wasn't going to figure out what has happening here unless I jumped in the middle, I shrugged my shoulders and pissed all over a clump of rotten tomatoes laying at my feet. As the splash of my urine met with the ground, a hush fell over the crowd of men as they all stopped and glared at me. Gee, sorry about that. I had no idea that me taking a leak would disrupt the festive atmosphere.
The man in the Santa Claus suit gave me a befuddled look and he shooed off the disappointed crew. As I zipped up my pants, he made his way over to me. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, and frankly began to wonder if I wouldn't have been better off trying to hold in my hot burst of human waste for the required five blocks until I hit the old homestead.
My skepticism would find itself relieved just like my happy bladder as soon as he began chuckling and held up his right hand.
"You will forgive me if I don't shake ya' hand, but I sure am glad to see yo' ass."
I whirled around and stood face to face with the man. God, he was ugly.
"It Looked like you were having quite a time there with your ....uhh ....were those guys friends of yours?" I asked.
He looked greatly amused.
"Aww Hell naw! Thems was just some honkies I saw when I was making a delivery over 'round yonder 'dat co'nar right 'da, " he motioned to the edge of the alley.
He apparently ceased to care that I had just been holding my dick in my hand and held out his own.
"Claus, baby. Santa. Esquire. At yo' service."
I gave him a smirk and I could see that he knew I figured him to be completely batshit crazy.
"If you are Santa Claus than I am the tooth fairy."
He laughed even harder.
"Well then, twinkle twinkle biaaaaatch!"
I had already grown bored and turned toward the street.
"Well, its been nice gabbing with ya Santa bla ...I mean, Claus ....you must be busy. After all, it is Christmas eve. I'll just leave you to your ...uhhh....duties then."
He slapped his side and burst a profanity laced rebuttal.
"Aw now mutha' fucka wha' choo mean yule lea' me ta' ma' duties then?!"
He reached into his pockets and pulled out some kind of identification card and began waving it around in my face.
"I'm Santa Claus Go' damnit! You best recognize or yo' kids get a lump a coal in da' stockins."
I had heard enough of this. I had some drinking to do back at the tomb that I pay rent and utilities on each month and this asshole was just holding me up.
"Well, alright then ....it was nice meeting you Santa. My wife got the kids and moved midwest couple a' years ago. If you can figure out which house is hers then coal it shall be. Good night."
I began to walk away and his voice took on a somber tone. Not to mention he lost the Ghetto accent somehow briefly.
"Gene Hines. Apartment 3-D. 157th Street. Wife Sharon. Moved to Kansas. Wichita to be exact.
Took the kids. Jessie and Grady. 7 and 10 respectively."
I stopped dead in my tracks. Who was this nutjob? Better question would be, how did he know who I was?
"Who are you? You just come from the meeting?" That seemed to be the only logical explanation, despite the anonymity factor at those things.
He shrugged my question off and started putting his id card back into his pocket.
"I wasn't at no meetin'. I'm Santa Claus mutha'fucka'. I already told yo' ass. I been to' yo' house already. You ain't get sheeeit 'dis year. Same as last year. I ain't been to the midwest yet. It ain't even 10 o' clock."
Okay, this guy was seriously getting on my nerves.
"WHO-THE-FUCK....ARE YOU?!"
He wasn't buying my tough act.
"Look, man ....I already told you ....I'm Santa Claus. You don't believe me, 'dats yo' ass. But I am Santa Claus and you think you the only mutha'fucka wit' problems you is dead wrong."
I decided to play his game. It's certainly got to work a whole lot better than standing around here in the freezing cold all night going back and forth with some wacko in a clown suit.
"Okay, well ...." I began before he cut me off.
"I can do 'dat."
I was confused.
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
He laughed again.
"Mutha' fucka' I am way ahead of you. You want proof. I said I can do 'dat. Close yo' eyes."
"Look man, seriously ...okay ...you're Santa Claus. Great. Now-"
"Mutha' fucka' I wasn't born yesterday! You don't believe a word I'm saying and I'm gonna shut yo' cracka' ass up! Now, close yo' eyes Go' damnit!"
What the hell. If he tried to mug me, he wasn't going to get much of anything. I stood up straight and closed my eyes as tight as I could.
"There. Ya happy, Santa?"
"I'm doin' a'ight and you gon' be one sorry mutha'fucka you don't take 'dat sarcasm out yo' voice."
"Okay, okay..." I tried to sound convincing, "I'm cool. You're cool. We're like two little Fonzies here."
"A' ight 'den. Now ....free yo' mind ....and yo' ass will follow."
I somehow managed to push all irritation and anxiety from my cravings for the sauce away from my head and within a split second of blank thought I was sitting in a GREAT BIG CADILLAC next to-
Holy shit! What the-?!
There, overtop of the city was me and-
Okay, seriously ....I need a drink really bad because the whole thing felt so real. I must be hallucinating. I was riding shotgun with Ghetto Claus and we were flying over the city. He was pointing at the streets below.
"You 'gon come fly wit' me. I'm a' take yo' ass to see yo' childlens. I know you ain't seen them since they was taken by 'dat bitch ass ho' of yours."
Wait a minute now. What did he just say? He is going to take me-
"You are gonna take me to see Grady and Jessie? Right now?"
He chuckled at what he must have thought was reluctance but was actually something far worse that had me about two seconds away from punching him in his jaw.
"Damn rite! You got some kind of mu'fuckn' appointment and shit?"
This had to stop right now. I tried to open my eyes, but I felt hands placed over my face.
"You can not open yo' eyes until I say so. You got 'dat?"
I actually didn't get it at all. It would appear that my body was standing still in that alley, and yet inside of my mind I was now flying over a bunch of cornfields. It couldn't be. There just was no way that this could be happening.
"A' ight 'den. We is headin' on in. Grab yo' sef sum shit."
With those words, I felt a rush of motion and a blast of wind hit my face and worked its way down my form. He was right. We were going right in towards a house. Where the-?
Was this the place that Sharon had bought with the money that she felt she was entitled to from that stupid lotto ticket?
I guess this house was as good as any though for my kids. Except that I wasn't there to be their father.
Although Sharon wouldn't think physical presence to matter much on account of I was not exactly all that great of a father when I had the luxury of being in the next room from them both. It wasn't my fault. The demon alcohol did it all. Yes,I touched the buttons. But the drink pulled the strings. Try explaining that to small children and an angry wife. What had he just called her? Bitch ass ho. Yeah, that sounded about right. I think I'll remember that one the next time she tries to prevent me from seeing my kids that I now missed even more terribly than ever. Don't know what you have until its gone indeed. But it wasn't gone. Somehow I found myself right here-
The Cadillac skidded atop the roof of the house and parked right next to the chimney. I simply could not believe what I was seeing with my eyes still closed in that dark alley.
Ghetto Claus turned to me and spoke softly and actually quite earnestly.
"A' ight, I got sum shit to do. You 'gon hav' 'ta chill in the ride and 'den we 'gon take ca'r bidness. You dig?"
I sat there for what appeared to be only a matter of seconds and felt a tapping on my shoulder. I looked up and saw him standing overtop of me with a gleam in his eyes.
"Now mutha'fucka ....you bring yo' ass rite he'." He pulled me up by my collar and dragged me over the side of the house. The next thing I knew we were floating in front of a window. I felt the air beneath my feet and thought it best to not look down and with that I was able to take in the sight that was laid right before my own eyes ....or mind ....I still haven't figured out which.
I gazed into a window and saw a young girl kneeling at her bed. I couldn't believe it. It was Jessie. She had her hands clasped together and was looking towards the ceiling. She was praying.
I felt as if I wanted to cry tears of joy but they would surely have become frozen to my face, so it was just as well. Instead I just marveled at what I was seeing. Her beautiful brown hair billowed down around her shoulders. She gets that hair from me. I began to gloat with intense pride all of a sudden over something so simple as a genetic pigmentation. That was my little girl.
Ghetto Claus placed his hands on my shoulders and spoke.
"Now peep 'dis shit 'rite here...." he said, as he motioned towards the bedroom.
As if the magic of this moment and location would not be enough, I felt a lucid sensation emit from the glass and as plain as the sound of white doves flapping their wings, I heard in my daughters voice her prayer.
"God please bless daddy. Wherever he is."
Tears began to roar from my eyes and streak down my face. I no longer cared whether my eyeballs would be frozen over with a glazed layer formed of equal parts regret and rejuvenation. Jessie would always be my little angel girl from Heaven. But at that very moment I knew this wasn't an unrequited sentiment. I had to see Grady.
I turned around to see Ghetto Claus shaking his head and going "Mm-Mm-Mm. Yo' ass feels dum now don't it?"
"How is this possible? Who are you really?"
He glared at me with a most shocking scrutiny before he huffed and exploded.
"Is you ignant or just completely out yo' mind foo'?! I told you ....I'm Santa Claus mutha' fucka'. I took you to see yo' kids ...I even showed you my id! Whats a nigga' got to do to show you he is legit? Oh, I'm a black man ....you's want me to rob you or some shit? Yesa' Masa' I's pick that cotton fo' you real good. Woulds you please hook a brother up with some kool-aid and some watermelon?!"
He looked upwards toward the roof and the cadillac and shook his head.
"Hey man, fuck you! I'm out 'dis bitch! Yo' ass can walk back to New Yoke."
All of a sudden it hit me like a rack of ribs. This dude was as real as it got. I had spent my whole life shoving aside those that were genuine and reaching for artificial comfort. It was time to look at my life head on and get real, and this moment ....tangible or abstract ....that little girl up there that came from my seed still including me in her prayers after all that I put her and her brother through ....that was real. This ...was my life. I could continue to push it all away....flush it down the toilet.... or I could wake up every day and give thanks that I have two beautiful kids who still love me-
All of a sudden I heard a jarring sound almost like a needle scratching across a record and Ghetto Claus piped up.
"Slow down there foo'. You might have two kids but only one 'dem shits recognizes yo' ass."
I was confused. Was he able to see into my mind and know what I was thinking?
"What do you mean?"
He hocked a golfball sized chunk of phlegm into the cold air and laughed.
" 'Dat' rite da'," he pointed towards Jessies window," she is a daddys girl. Always gon' be. You said two kids that loves you-"
I cut him off because this really was too weird.
"I didn't say anything. I was thinking it. You reading my mind now too?"
He laughed and retorted.
"Mutha' fucka' I knows ever'a'thang. I'm Santa Claus. I sees mutha' fuckas when de's sleepin. I knows when you is up, down, left, right, whateva. You doin' it ....done did it ....gon' do it ....or even thinkin' 'bout it ....I knows 'dat shit! You can't pull nuttin' on me! I'm like yo' moms. Rememba' when you snuck that cup a' old Milwaukee when you was a little man?"
This was insane. How could he have known that? I hadn't even thought of that for ages until right now when he just said it. This guy was on something. Either that, or I was. As he kept talking I began to realize that indeed I was on something. I was higher than I had ever been. On life. My life, and he knew more about my own life than I did.
He shook his head and laughed again.
"I know alls about you Gene Hines. Sheeit nigga' yous crazy. Ole' Milwaukee. Nobody drinks that shit except old fools."
He was right. I had swiped a helping of it from my Uncle Harry when my parents had him over for some darts one night. Everybody used to make fun of him for drinking that geezer piss. I didn't care though. It was all that I needed back then to get me started on my lifelong love affair with the drink. I had never told anybody about that on account of I was somewhat ashamed of my introductory beverage of choice. All of the cooler kids back then were dipping into their parents liquor cabinets. Vodka. Gin. Rum. Tommy Radclif had somehow managed to get ahold of a bottle of moonshine when he was eleven. Some people say that stuff fucked up his mind.
I knew still even more kids who would cop cans of warm Budweiser from coolers at family cookouts. Me? I had snuck a cup of Old Milwaukee. Not exactly one of my proudest achievements. But one that nonetheless had an effect on the way that I turned out. Just like my dad. I had always tried to swipe one of his bottles of Yukon Jack, but he always kept them locked up in the liquor cabinet. Thank God for small favors. That shit probably would have rotted me out by the time I was 14 had I been able to get a hold of it.
I was beginning to feel foolish for doubting my new friend here. He was obviously on the level. How else could I explain all the stuff that he knew? Not to mention that I was standing suspended outside of my kids window on Christmas eve. Then it hit me what he had said. My kids! What about Grady?
Before I could even say it out loud he somberly intoned to me his response to my thoughts.
"Don't feel bad, bru.' Dat ho of yours has turned him into the biggest mamas boy there ever could be. It's cool. He'll come 'round after some big kids from the neighborhood get in 'dat ass o' his and you wind up teaching him how to fight. You'll be a hero, my man. Bitch still gon' take yo' ass to 'da cleaners over some dum backpay 'do. But you will clean yo' ass up and you will get to see 'dem kids.' Dat is yo' shit rite 'da."
This guy was incredible. He knew it all. I might have doubted him earlier on. But of this I was sure ....my life was going to turn out just fine. Ghetto Claus knew it and now, most importantly, I knew it.
"I got to get yo' ass back to the city. I got shit to do. Lets get back to the ride."
He snapped his fingers and next thing I knew we were back over the city in the Cadillac. I looked into the backseat and couldn't believe my eyes. How could I had missed all of those toys before? This guy was loaded down and ready to hand out some serious shit.
"So, tell me ...." I spoke into the wind that hit us in the face, "Why does everybody seem to think that Santa Claus is white?"
He erupted into fits of laughter.
"Sheeit, it's just more of the white mans highjacking of a black mans world. Elvis ....Santa Claus ....you dig what I'm sayin'?"
I dug.
"So, do you really live at the North Pole?"
"Foo' you is out yo' mind! I live in Watts. 103rd Street. East side."
"Wow, you came a long way."
He shot me with a look that would cause an old white man behind the register in a liquor store to empty out and hand over the till and the safe behind the stack of wine bottles.
I gave up to any rejection that would fill the air hours ago and I laughed at my good fortune in meeting Santa Claus. The real Santa Claus.
I was guessing that I would never get the chance to learn some of these things ever again, so immediately my mind was flooded with questions.
"So, what do you do for the rest of the year?"
He kicked back in his seat and smiled.
"I'm just like any ya'll. I like me a good buzz ....some fine wine ....Mad dog, Cisco ....the classics. I smoke some blunts with my friend Snoop-"
"No shit? You're friends with Snoop Dogg?"
"Hell ye-ya! D-O-double G baby. That is my main man!"
This was too cool. I would never be able to look at Snoop Dogg ever again without thinking about Santa Claus.
I shifted in my seat at the sudden revelation that jolted me.
"I won't be doing any of that sort of thing anymore. I need to get ready for the rest of my life. I wanna actually remember what I do and see where I go with a clear head and heart."
He smiled.
" 'Dats cool baby. I was gon' axe you if yous wanna stop off here in Pittsburgh on my way back to Nyc for some blunts and bells, but 'dats cool. You got your thang man. I'm on 'dat. I'm happy fo' ya. It's been a rough year for me too. I am glad to help a brotha' out."
"Rough how so? What happened?" This sounded to be interesting.
"Aw man, I been through some bugged out shit! My elves went on strike. My man Rudolph took off on my ass and was at sum joint talking shit. Mrs. Claus got the old lady vapors...."
I was already confused. Rudolph? Was that-?
"Rudolph? The old lady vapors?"
He laughed at my bewildered expression.
"You white people call 'dat shit menopause. But ain't no pause about it. When a sista' gets the vapors homeboys best get the fuck out 'da way! Oh, and Rudolph .....he is my main nigga'. Was... until he rolled out on me."
Just as he said all of this I was reminded of something that I had been meaning to ask him all night.
"Hey, who were all of those guys back there in the alley? What was that all about?"
"Oh shit! Them cracka's is crazy! They saw me going in a window 'round the co'ner. I seen this fine ass white girl dreaming about some sugar plums or sum shit and I thought I'd drop in on her ass and give her a taste of 'dat dark magic. A little old Saint Dick if you know what I'm sayin. The night would not be complete if I didn't pay a visit to some of 'dem naughty girls. I just love me some naughty ass white girls."
This guy was too funny. He provided me with the single most eye opening and beautifully sentimental epiphany of my existence and here he was talking about sneaking in a young white girls window and darkening her horizons. Oh well, as long as it wasn't my daughter or my ex-wife. Although, maybe that bitch whore Sharon could use some-
Eh, never mind. I just listened to him tell the tale of his night as we headed back into the city.
"So there I am standing in this ho's winda' and I hear 'dese mutha'fuckas yelling about nigga' 'dis and mu'fucka' dat ....I had to think fast. I could have laid 'dem asses out like shit if I wasn't so ....holiday-esque. So, I decided to have me some fun and see some white boys dance around like dum asses 'dey is. You people can not dance I'm tellin' ya in case you is unaware."
I did have to laugh at this.
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
"I was startin' to get bored until yo' ass shown up. I figured if anybody could shove these crackas off it should be one of theys own."
I felt another intense gust of wind whip up and he yelled for me to close my eyes and hang on.
With a split second of motion, I heard him quietly tell me to open my eyes.
I couldn't believe it. I looked around to see that we were both standing back in the dark alley that we had just seemed to have met in only-
I looked at my watch. What time was it?
Before I could see what time it was I heard my new friend speak up.
"Aw man, yeah ....sorry 'bout 'da watch. Time and space thang ya dig? I like to think that what I gave yo' ass tonight was mo' betta' than a piece of tin."
I looked at my watch to see that the hands were bent inwards and it had completely stopped. He was right. Tonight ....what I had seen ....experienced .....was indeed priceless. I would be eternally grateful to this man.
I was tired from a night well spent and should probably get home. I did feel like I should say something though.
"Hey ....Ghet- Uhh .....Santa Claus ....thank you."
He shrugged my words off, though he was visibly moved by them. Then, I saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a small package.
"I got a full house tonight and I don't have much leftover. But here ...." He reached his hand out.
I looked down. He was handing me a pack of Lifesavers.
"Whats this for?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"Its nuttin' at all, my man. I just know that you white people seem to dig lifesavers a whole lot."
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