You could hardly see the old, dilapidated single-wide mobile home from the nameless gravel road it was set off of. Its dingy, mildew-covered metal exterior seemed to blend in with the rapidly graying December landscape where the now-barren trees protruded from the ground about it like the claws of some monstrous, earthen creature. Sitting precariously atop concrete blocks, the home looked the same as it had for a generation, with only the Direct TV satellite dish serving as evidence that time had moved on from twenty years prior. A lone vehicle sat on the rutted dirt ground next to the house, a 1986 Ford F-150 pickup truck whose weather-worn maroon paint job might have sported several rust spots, but its rebel flag bumper sticker sporting the words, “Ferget, Hell!” showed brightly against the dingy background.
When Billy Simmons and his wife Laurie Ann were joined in holy matrimony four years ago, it was understood that the trailer on the back of his parents’ land was only temporary, just amounting to a roof over their heads until Billy built her the house of her dreams. Plans have got a funny way of changing over time, though, and when the meat packing plant downtown went out of business two years ago, he was one of many left jobless. Employment opportunities are hard to come by in a small town like Dalton, and Billy was forced to bounce between odd jobs, from toiling away in nearby rice fields to minor car repairs to his current seasonal employment, Santa Claus at the local Family Dollar store. It didn’t pay much, but the money was easy and in Billy’s eyes, there were few things better than that.
On this fateful evening, Billy was laying back in his second-hand, broken down recliner, whose dark green color had faded over the years to more of a vomit-like hue, relaxing after a hard day of “Ho Ho Hoing” and letting bratty little kids sit in his lap. Having just returned home after an eight our shift at the Family Dollar, he was still sporting his Santa outfit. The red in the suit had faded a bit over the years of use and there were several unwashable stains on the shirt and pants. The fluffy white cotton on the hat and shirt was now a dingy gray and his fake beard was covered in cigarette ash. Billy took another gulp from a half-empty can of Natural Light and then a drag from the GPC cigarette in his left hand. Inhaling deeply, he tastee every delicious bit of the tar coating his internal organs before emitting a great cloud of smoke that seemed to just hang in the air about him, obscuring his vision for a few zen-like moments.
Due to his deep, meditative state, Billy did not even hear the door open and shut. He didn’t hear his wife walk across the room and sit down on the dirty, rapidly deteriorating couch across from him. Her presence was completely unknown to him until, finally, she broke the silence.
“Billy,” she started, reaching out to grab his nonresponsive hand, “We need to talk.”
Billy jerked back reflexively with the realization that a person had just barged into his Edenic paradise. He blinked his eyes several times in a vain attempt to focus in the dimming light, “Huh? Wha? What’s going on?”
Finally the fuzziness cleared and the figure of Laurie Ann took shape before him. Her bleached blonde hair fell in tangles to her shoulders and framed her makeup-caked face quite nicely in the low lighting. Her hot pink stretch pants were a little faded but still caught the light rays and shown fairly brightly. “You know, Billy,” she began, still holding his hand in hers, “We’ve been through a lot together over the years.”
“Uh,” Billy’s dulled mind couldn’t quite figure out where this was going, “yeah?”
“Well, I, um,” an errant tear began to run down her cheek, “Billy, I’m, I’m, sorry.”
“What’s wrong, honey?’
“I’m…I’m…I’m….ummm….”
“What is it baby? Did the repo man come back? Did the police stop you?” Suddenly a wild look of terror shot onto his face, “Are you with child?”
“Nah, it ain’t none of those things,” she wiped her sleeve across a tear filled eye.
“You can tell me, Laurie Ann. What’s on your mind?”
“Billy, there’s…there’s….there’s another man.”
Suddenly Billy’s look of concern darkened, his brow furrowed and his eyes squinted. “What did you say?”
“I’m sorry, Billy, I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”
“Arrggghh!” he roared, “Who is it? Who have you been cheatin’ on me with, woman?”
Laurie Ann put her face in her hands, sobbing, “I….I….I’m sorry, Billy.”
Calming his nerves for just moment, he reached out, grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “Who,” he asked, pronouncing every word clearly, “Is it?”
“Billy,” she cried wildly, “I’m sorry. It’s Jimmy.”
“Nooooo!” He cried out, slamming his fist through the thin paneling on the wall. It was his worst nightmare realized. Jimmy, his best friend since childhood had done the unthinkable. He had committed the ultimate betrayal, the worst of all sins. Billy suddenly stood up, staggering a bit under the effects of the earth-shaking news and the cheap beer, and charged out through the trailer’s entrance, slamming the door behind him with all of his might. After gathering his bearings for a moment, Billy knew just what he had to do. Jimmy would pay for this.
Billy climbed into his old truck and turned the key in the ignition, though it took several tries before the old engine coughed itself begrudgingly back to life. In the meantime, Laurie Ann came running out the door, mascara running down her face, screaming, “No, Billy! Don’t hurt him! Please don’t hurt him!” But Billy paid her no attention. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal and tore out of the yard, showering Laurie Ann and their home with rocks and dirt clods and leaving behind just a cloud of dust. Her face and hair now caked with dirt she screamed again, “No, Billy! Don’t do it!” But it was too late, he was gone.
The old truck pulled onto the paved road, tires squealing like some great exclamation point declaring his murderous intentions. The sun was now down, no longer using its great powers to push back the darkness from the face of the earth, mirroring the darkness in Billy’s soul. He gulped down another can of beer as he barreled down the road toward the one place he knew Jimmy would be, Wal-Mart.
After hearing Billy’s stories of easy money playing Santa, Jimmy had decided to do likewise and found a spot at the closest Wal-Mart. Now, there wasn’t a business such as this in Dalton, but one could be found in the nearby county seat of Bethel. Billy didn’t get over to Bethel very often, but the unearthly glow of the new Supercenter illuminated the skies for miles around, pointing the way to the holiest of holies like that great star leading the wise men of old. He navigated the dark streets with little regard for trivial things like traffic laws or pedestrians, his squealing tires piercing the darkness like a knife.
The parking lot was filled from front to back with the vehicles of eager shoppers doing their part to fill Santa’s sack with goodies for the little girls and boys, but Billy pain no attention to the rows upon rows of vehicles. He gave no heed to the crowds of people pushing rickety metal shopping carts filled to bursting with plastic bags. The truck jumped the curb and barreled toward the electric doors, making people throw themselves and their carts filled with Christmas treasures to safety, finally coming to a halt amid the spilled packages. Then Billy, still clad in full Santa Claus regalia, stepped from the vehicle. Kicking a teddy bear who happened to fall next to the truck to the side, Billy glared menacingly at the shoppers gathered about him as he gulped down the remainder of his beer and then smashed the aluminum can on his forehead, leaving behind a bright red ring just above the bridge of his nose and just below his receding hairline..
As he stepped through the electronic door, a shaky female voice called out from his side, “Welcome to Wal-Mart.”
Turning to his right, he took in the welcoming person, an ancient looking woman who was squinting up at him through impossibly large glasses. With a sneer, he growled at the elderly lady, “Where is Santa?”
She looked back at him quizzically for a moment before her expression suddenly brightened, “Oh, you mean Jimmy! Yes, yes, what a nice boy. He’s back in the toy section.”
Grunting in return, Billy began pushing his way through the crowd of people. A young boy grabbed his arm, “Santa!” he cried out excitedly.
Billy turned and snarled at the child, his dingy beard askew and his bloodshot eyes seeming to pierce right through the youth’s small skull. “Outta the way, kid. Santa’s got a job to do.”
Soon the crowd seemed to thin a bit and turn into a sort of single file line, stretching from the toy section all the way to lawn and garden. Billy followed the column of people with his eyes, scanning across them all the way to the very front where he finally saw the object of his desire, his once-friend and now nemesis, Jimmy. He was seated on what looked to be a golden throne while wearing an immaculate Santa costume, its bright red and white colors contrasting perfectly in the well-tuned light. Behind him stood a full-size sleigh led by realistic-looking plastic and metal reindeer and a gargantuan electric sign proclaiming, “MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM SANTA.” At the head of the line, allowing eager children through the gate to Santa’s throne stood an elf, an honest-to-God little person, wearing a green outfit complete with a pointy elf hat and small bells that jingled every time he took a step.
With an incredulous open-mouthed expression on his face, Billy stared at the Christmas spectacle before him. “A midget? He got a real freakin’ midget!”
Mothers looked at Billy in his dirty, unkempt Santa suit disapprovingly, doing their best to position their children so that they would not be forced to lay eyes on the disheveled father Christmas. He paid little heed to them, though, pushing crying children aside as he forcefully made his way to the front of the line.
“Move it, kid,” he scornfully snarled as he pushed a sobbing little girl to the floor with one arm, while brushing past a young mother holding a baby. He ignored the calls for him to stop the rampage as he shoved the last young boy from his path and stood before the undersized man in the elf outfit.
“JIMMY!” he yelled out, allowing the threatening sound to echo around the cavernous opening, “I’m comin’ fer you!”
“Sir, umm, Sir,” the elf tapped Billy on the leg. “Sir, I’m afraid you need to go to the back of the line and wait for your turn.”
Billy ignored the little man and began to walk toward his former friend, with only his single purpose in mind. The elf stepped in his way once again, blocking the path and tapping his leg more forcefully. “Sir, please go to the back of the line.”
“Ugh…it’s that midget, again.”
CRACK! With a quick, but powerful kick Billy sent the small man flying through the air into the sleigh where he landed with a loud thud. The wailing cries of children and mothers filled the air, but Billy seemed immune to their howling tears. “JIMMY!” he yelled for a second time, raising one hand and pointing directly at the mall Santa. “I’m gonna kill you for what you done!”
As Billy charged at him like a mad bull hellbent on his destruction, Jimmy pushed the child in his lap to the side and stood, hands in the air, pleading to his old friend. “Billy, wait. This is all just a misunderstandin’. Let’s talk about it.”
Billy, though, would not be placated. He continued ahead at a full sprint, ducking his head and aiming his shoulder directly into Jimmy’s gut. BAM! He slammed into his old friend with an impact like a truck, bowling him completely over backwards onto his back. Pouncing atop him, Billy began pummeling away on him, landing blow after blow about Jimmy’s face and head, bloodying his nose and leaving his pristine beard stained dark red. Reaching behind his head, Jimmy grabbed a handful of the fake snow and defensively brought his arm forward, forcefully rubbing the strange white substance directly into Billy’s eyes.
“Argghh! You blinded me you little…ooofh,” but before he could get the words out, Jimmy had raised himself and landed a hard blow right into his stomach, reflexively causing him to bend over at the waist and hold his now-injured torso. While Billy was subdued for a moment, Jimmy reached to the side of the throne and produced his bag of toys. “You’re gonna pay for disruptin’ my work, Billy Boy,” he said through his bloodstained beard.
WHAP! Jimmy swung the present-laden bag around at full force and caught Billy in the head and shoulders, causing him to stagger back to the edge of the stage. He swung the bag back again, picked up some more momentum and again brought it around as hard as possibly could.
The hard plastic boxes, swung at such great velocity in the cloth sack, cracked against Billy’s body with an audible crunch that sent him falling off the stage and flat onto his back in the fake snow-covered ground below, but, as he fell he reached out with one last gasp of strength, grabbed hold of the sack with his clenched fist and pulled with all of his might, yanking Jimmy to the floor as well.
The two men began to roll and tussle about, punching and pulling hair and biting with reckless abandon as both men attempted to gain some bit of advantage over their opponent. Over and over they rolled, until they had finally left the Santa scene and were instead in the adjacent Nativity display. This was of no matter to either man, though, as they both battled for the destruction of the other. Billy again rolled atop of Jimmy and began swinging fists with all of his might, hoping to end this public struggle for dominance, but Jimmy pushed upwards, heaving Billy with the entirety of his strength directly into the manger, knocking the life-size plastic figures of Mary and Joseph to the floor and spilling the baby Jesus from the trough that was his bed.
As Billy tried to raise his beaten and exhausted body to its feet, Jimmy reached down and grabbed the surprisingly heavy plastic baby Jesus and slammed it on his head, breaking the Christ child in two with his mighty swing and sending Billy to the floor, where he lay, unmoving.
“Yeearrrgghhh!” Jimmy raised his arms in the air and gave a triumphant victory cry. His blood-soaked beard was to the side of his face now, the suit was in shreds, and his cotton topped hat had been lost sometime ago in the struggle. Looking at the large crowd that gathered around them as they had blazed their path of destruction through the displays, Jimmy laughed. Children and mothers cowered in fear and disgust as he maniacally cackled. Suddenly, a mischievous look flashed across his face as looked upon the horrified multitude.
“Ya’ll know he ain’t the real Santa now, dontcha? Watch his.” With that, he reached down and lifted Billy’s motionless head so that all the crowd could see. With one hand on his chin, he grasped the bloodstreaked beard with the other. “Now just look at this, his beard ain’t even real. It’s all a fake.”
Just as Jimmy began to jerk the beard from Billy’s face, his eyes suddenly snapped open and a strange look of animal-like vengeance came across his face. Sensing the fingers close to his bottom lip, Billy knew what he had to do. With one lightning-quick snap, Billy chomped down on Jimmy’s middle finger with all that he had, flexing his jaw muscles to their fullest extent.
Jimmy let out a surprised yowl of pain and desperately punched at Billy’s head with his free hand, screaming to be released. The blows raining down from above just hardened his resolve, though, and caused Billy to bite down even harder, through skin and muscle and all the way down to the bone. Wrenching his head to the side, the lone digit ripped completely away from the hand, leaving only a bloody nub where it once stood. Billy rose to his feet and spit the bloody finger to the side where it came to rest on the floor directly in front of the crowded shoppers. Women and children screamed at the horrifying spectacle. Jimmy shrieked in pain as he grasped at the gaping hole where his finger had once been. Billy cocked back a fist and was just about to release a devastating blow into Jimmy’s face when he heard the cocking of a pistol directly to the side of his head.
“Freeze, Santa!”
———-
After receiving medical attention for his maimed hand and following extensive questioning from an officer at the nearby precinct, Jimmy was herded into a holding cell where a solitary figure stood, staring out the barred window. It was a person that he would know anywhere and not just because he still wore a dirty, blood-caked Santa outfit, it was his old friend Billy.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
They stood in silence for an uncomfortable moment, neither quite sure what to say or where to start or if they should engage in another bloody fistfight. After what seemed like an eon of quiet, Jimmy finally spoke up, “I’m real sorry ‘bout Laurie Ann, Bobby.”
“Yeah.”
“I jest couldn’t help myself, you know how she looks in that camo bikini top.”
“Yeah.”
After another minute of complete deep space-like silence, Billy cleared his throat. “I reckon it’ll be alright, Jimmy. I cain’t blame you fer all of it. I know she done her part as well. I figure we’re okay.” Billy took a deep breath, exhaled and then continued, “An’ I’m sorry fer your finger, too, Jimmy.”
“Ah, hell, Billy. What’s a finger between friends.?”
With a slight smile on his face, Billy threw an arm across Jimmy’s shoulders and the two of them looked out the window at the bright moon high in the sky.
“Merry Christmas, Jimmy.”
“Merry Christmas, Billy.”
Neither of the two men is quite sure who started but soon they were both humming the melody to Silent Night.
Hmmm….hum…hmm…hmm
Hmmm….hum…hmm…hmm
All is calm, all is bright
Hmmm…hum…hmm..hu.hm
Mother and Child
Holy…hmm…hu..,.hmm
Tender and Mild
Sleep in heavenly peeeeaaace
Sleep in heavenly peace
The two men stood together in the moonlight, savoring the moment, realizing that life would go on. They could still be friends like brothers, despite their mistakes.
“One more thing, Jimmy.”
“What’s that, Billy?”
“You know I love you, but you better stay the hell away from my wife.”
:
”Yeah.”
