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Rated: ASR · Fiction · Comedy · #919966
An unexpected visitor for Christmas
The Christmas Feast

I was sitting down just ‘bout to enjoy my half-burnt Jumbo Hungry Man Turkey Dinner, when I hears me a frightful sound up on da roof. Now I knows that thar ain’t no such thing as that thar Santi Claus fella, so feeling a mite suspicious like, I’s climbs me up to the attic to take me a good look see.

From da attic windur, I’s could sees me a metal dish turned upside right with a bunches of these flashy light thingys on it that was just a’goin’ off and on, off and on, off and on . . . .

“Crim-a-dittly,” I says out loud. “What in tarnation is that thing?”

Well, just about then, this here little door opens up on top and a little fella with pointy feet and ears comes a'jumpin' out. He puts his hands on his hips and walks around that plate thingy just a’cussing up a storm. Finally, he gives it a good ol’ kick and hurt his foot sumthin’ terrible, cause I saw ‘im start a’hopping around like he was in an awful lot of pain.

I felt sorry for the little guy and opened up the windur and called ‘im over.

“Hey, thar, little fella, are you alright?”

Well, as soon as he took sight of me he just panics and starts a’lookin’ fer sum place to hide. But there weren’t no place, so he turns his skinny body sideways like thinking that maybe I wouldn’t be able to see ‘im none. Then he holds himself real still like--like a tree lizard or sumthin’.

Finally I calls out to 'im. “What the hell ya doin’ out thar, boy?” I hollered. “Quit horsin’ 'round and come on inside fer ya catch yer death of cold.”

He looked at me with a real sad look on his face, realizing his hiding weren’t good ‘nough to fool me. Then he kinda shrugs and takes a step in my direction.

“Come on! I ain’t got all day, you know, and it's cold out.”

He runs up to the windur and as I stepped back, he climbs on in.

He was a puny little runt and his knees were a’knockin’ from the cold. I looked ‘round the attic and seen me an ol’ wool horse blanket and snatched it up and offered it to him, but he backed away actin’ a bit 'fraid of me.

I opens up the blanket and drapes it over his shoulders. He looked at me with these big black eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was a’smiling or not cause his mouth was like this real small straight line on his egg-shaped face. But I think he was trying to tells me how grateful he was.

“Looky here, lil’ alien dude. It’s Christmas and I ain’t a’gonna put nobody out in the cold. Now, I don’t have much, but yer welcome to come on down and share it with me just the same.”

He cocked his gray head to one side, and then nodded.

“Alrighty then, come on.”

I gots me a’cupla ol’ phone books and piled ‘em in a chair like to help boost ‘im up to the table. Then I got one of my ol’ chipped plates and scraped half of my TV dinner onto it.

“Here ya go!” I said, flopping the food down in front of ‘im. “Merry Christmas.”

He sniffs it sort of funny like, and gets this curious look on his face. Then he stands up and pulls out this ray gun thingy.

“Whoa, hold on thar, par’ner. Ain’t no need to go gettin’ all riled up over the vittles. That’s all I got.”

He points this darn thing at the middle of da table, and pulls the trigger.

Out shoots this bright green light that makes the whole table glow. Well, the next thin' I know, thar’s a giant steamin’ turkey and all the fixin’s spread out in front of me. Boy, howdy, I was plum takin’ aback.

He gives me a wink and we both sit down and pig out for over two hours on the finest feast ever I did taste. I mean it. It was the most delicious meal I ever ett.

We both ett and ett ‘til neither of us could ett ‘nother bite.

We pushed ourselves away from the table and had a lil’ belchen contest for a while, then my guest gave me a friendly salute and took off up the stairs to the attic. I followed as a’fast as I could, but by the time I gots up to the attic windur he was a’takin' off in that funny lookin’ car of his.

I watched as he flew outta sight, but after a few sputters and clinks he comes a’crashing down again. This time on the roof of my neighbors house. Then, sure ‘nough, he gets out and climbs up on the chimney and then slides right on down and disappears in a small cloud of soot.

“Well, ‘magine that?” I said out loud. “Thar really is a Santi Claus.”
© Copyright 2004 W.D.Wilcox (billywilcox at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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