The Christmas Story

I ran into Ike Mason, an old friend of mine at The Lonesome Duck this afternoon. Ain’t that I’ve known him long, but he’s eighty two years old and he always greets me with a smile, so I reckon that makes him an old friend. Well, for the price of a drink, the old coot usually has a tale to tell and this afternoon was no different.

Once upon a long time ago, in a place I never heard of, a woman called Mary was visited by an angel. The angel said Mary was gonna have a baby boy that she’d call Jesus. I figured the angel must have been some kind of gypsy fortune teller but Ike said no, the angel was an emissary of God.

I was still trying to swallow that when Ike said something about a miraculous conception. I damn near choked on my whiskey when he explained that one, but I went along with it anyhow, just as Mary's husband Joseph did. That’s if he wasn’t just plain gullible.

Well, just as the youngster was due, Mary and Joseph had to ride over to a place called Bethlehem and pay their taxes. Only their luck was out when they got there, ‘cause all the hotels were full and they finished up sleeping in some fella’s barn with a bunch of animals. And wouldn’t you know it, that very night, amongst heaps of hay and horse shit, the baby was born.

Meantime, out in the hills, a bunch of shepherds were tending their sheep when they saw a bright light in the sky. Then an angel appeared before them. She told them to go and see the new born, and the shepherds ran all the way. Me, I’d have kept on going. Hell, you wouldn't have seen my ass for dust.

The shepherds had no sooner got to the barn when three kings turned up, wise men from the east, bearing Christmas presents for the baby. I don’t know what use gold, frankincense and myrrh is to a kid, but I guess it’s the thought that counts. Hell, what is frankincense and myrrh, anyway?

And that’s it, that’s what Christmas is about; the birth of Jesus. So Ike says, anyhow. Hmm, I thought I heard thunder just then. Could be we’re in for a storm.