Journal-Advocate (Sterling)

Say Merry Christmas

- Brought to you by your local classic country radio station which carries Home Country Radio with Slim Randles. Windy’s always hanging around there somewhere.

Now before you can sneak away, here comes that pharaoh of the feedstore, that baron of the bunkhouse, that titan of the tack room …Windy Wilson.

Well, t’other day I mean-durated around town until I crept in to Sarah’s bookstore. You know the one. Has that sign on them bookshelve­s says “Love and other Fiction.” Been meanin’ to ask her ‘bout that one a these days. Oh, Alphonse Wilson here ‘course.

Well, Miz Sarah shore is a sweetie and I like droppin’ on in there ever now and then. Wellsir, this day, I was huntin’ a Farmer’s Almanac for the new year. You know how it is … hate to do somethin’ stoo-pid like plant cabbages in the wrong bowels of somethin’ like that.

Wellsir, Sarah kinda looks me up and down, and I got glad as could be about bein’ a upright finelookin’ beast, and then she rears back and asks me to put on this yere Santa suit and talk to the kiddies later that day. She said she’d even give me that almanac for doin’ it.

Well, hot dingles, campers! I got the suit and them fakeroo whiskers slapped ‘em on and took up my perch right there next to them history shelves.

I didn’t notice anything strange ‘til I was ‘bout three kids in, you know. Then I noticed ol’ Sarah had got the Santa elf fever her ownself!

Yep, she come over and stationed herself right next to good ol’ Santa. That’s me, you know. Wellsir, the very next tike that come up was this cute little girl and she hopped up in ol’ Santa’s lap. So I nacherly sent seasonings greetings across to ‘er.

I said, “Hello there, young lady. Do you wish to convey an appurtenan­ce of Christmas time wishes to all of us at this conflagrat­ion?”

And she says “Huh?” kinda like she didn’t understand. Then Sarah whispers to her “Say Merry Christmas.”

And she says Merry Christmas, Santa.

“Tell Santa what you want for Christmas,” said Sarah. And the kidlet says, “Oh… I want a doggie!”

“I see! Says I. You desire to bask in the unabrashed affliction­s of our fourlegged companeros.”

“No” she says, “… I want a doggie.”

“Well a-course you do., says I. I looked at her mama and she gives me the nod.

You know how it’s a adult duty to appertain responsibi­lity, so’s I look down and says, “Now you realize, a-course, that havin’ a dog means providin’ it with ampulatory nourishmen­t and care. And there may be some … excretator­y surprises to be remedliate­d.”

The girl looked up at her mother. And her mama says she’ll hafta feed it and clean up after it.

And that little angel says, “I will, Santa!”

So as to put the Santa visit into terminatin’ remembranc­es, I said “and a felicious cerebellum of the sanctified parturitio­natin’ occurrence to you, my dear.”

And she looked up at me and says “Merry Christmas!”

I musta done a good job of it, too, ‘cuz when the guys come in from the Mule Barn, I heard Sarah tell ‘em next year she was a-goin’ to charge admission.

And you can tell ‘em I said so!

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