Christmas Story. Riding Shotgun with Santa by Peter


He was stooped, using the hat to shield his eyes from the rain. Shadows from the streetlight hid his features. The sole occupant of the red convertible looked asleep when “Hey kid,” an arm extended, beckoning me to approach. I stepped cautiously from my blind wondering how he saw me through the leaves, the drizzle and the hat.
“Heck of a night to be out,” his head lifted and turned my way. “Well come on. I won’t bite.” The words came in Thompson bursts and hit with the force of heavy rain. An awry smile looked like it needed a cigarette. “What’s your name?”
“T-T-Tommy,” I stammered and his eyes said he wanted more, “Thomas Mayne, from number twenty four.” indicating the apartment complex down the street, but looking at the red paint, the chrome, bells and the ……
“You ain’t on the list.” he said scrutinising a clipboard. “You skedaddle before the old man comes back and catches you. We got deliveries to make.”
I turned and ran from the approaching bells. “Who’s next Humphrey?” reverberated a jolly voice.
“Some kid named Tommy Mayne? Guess it pays to check this list twice Chris.”


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