The following story is a complete work of fiction.
Any similarity to actual persons living or dead is completely unintentional...
not to mention I will also be so incredibly jealous too.
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Close Encounters
by Danny
~ Twenty-Fifth Encounter ~
My most recent close encounter happened only three days ago on the most magical day of the year. Yep, that's right, I mean Christmas! It took place at Providence University Hospital.
It all started because my older brother had to be admitted to the hospital due to severe stomach pain. As it turned out, he had appendicitis and had to have his appendix removed on Christmas Eve.
You might think that it would suck to have to spend Christmas at the hospital, and I suppose it could for some, but for my brother and my family, it was almost like being at home. The only notable difference for me was the catheter tube that emerged from under my brothers' blanket and drained into a large clear plastic bag.
Early Christmas morning, Dad and I had taken all of the presents out from under the Christmas tree, piled them into the trunk of the car and along with the rest of the family, we took them to the hospital so that our whole family could be together on Christmas morning.
We had just finished opening all of our presents, my brother was taking a catnap and dad was having a hard time staying awake too. Being the good son that I am, (yeah right) I was volunteered to go get my dad a cup of coffee. I made it down to the basement and found the coffee vending machine with no trouble at all, but I got soooooo lost on the way back. I had gotten back in the elevator, but being the brainless twit that I am, I forgot which floor my brother's room was located. Now I had a one in five chance of getting it right and I was reasonably sure that he was on the fourth floor, so that's the button I pressed. I was wrong.
Well, the fourth floor looks a whole lot like the third floor where my brother's room really was. I found myself wandering around the fourth floor trying to find his room, but all I was seeing were a bunch of little kids in bed, some sleeping and some not. I would guess they all ranged in age from six to twelve years old. I finally saw a sign that I recognized, it said Nurses Station with a big black arrow pointing down the hallway.
I was walking down the hallway when, much to my surprise and momentary disbelief, I came face-to-face with the big jolly guy in his red suit, black boots and white fluffy beard. He was coming out of one room heading for another. Following closely behind him was not one, but two little elves. One was dressed all in green and the other dressed all in gold. I had to take a second and third look at them before I realized that they were just two young girls made-up to resemble elves, but boy they were all decked out with pointy ears, tights and tinkling bells on their shoes.
Now if this were not a telling of my close encounters with diaper wearing boys, I would probably stop here. I mean, how many of us can say that we have had a close encounter with Santa and two of his little toy makers? But the surprises didn't end with my run-in with Father Christmas.
OK, so I am about to turn sixteen and I'm probably too old to get all giddy at Christmas time, but I still do, and running into the big guy put me right over the top. I suddenly felt like I was six years old again. My heart raced, my eyes bulged, butterflies were flapping around in my stomach and my mouth seemed to want to fail me.
"Merry Christmas young man!" Santa Claus said.
Boy, he went all out! Even his breath smelled like peppermints.
"Hi Santa!" I said a tad too loud.
He smiled, put a finger to his lips and shushed me.
"Oops, sorry!" I giggled, putting both of my hands over my mouth.
His eyes fell to the cup of coffee I was supposed to be taking to my dad, but without hesitation I handed it to him. He took a big gulp and sighed with relief.
"It's not Hot-Coco, but it sure does the trick!" he said.
The two little elves were smiling at Santa and looked eager to get on with the spreading of Christmas joy.
Once in a while, I actually say something that doesn't sound stupid, and this time, I actually came up with something that was kind of funny. "Sorry I don't have any cookies to go with it." I said.
He laughed just like in all the TV Christmas shows, with his belly shaking and all.
Right then, a sweet little boy of eight, or maybe nine, came out of the room across from the room that Santa and his elves had just come out from only seconds before. I then noticed that he had no fingers and his hands and arms were badly scared. He had a plain red ball cap on his head and he wasn't wearing the normal hospital gown either. He had on a New York Mets baseball jersey that was several sizes too large for him and hung down nearly to his ankles. His jersey was hanging open in the front, allowing anyone and everyone to see that the only other thing he was wearing was a green diaper that was obviously in need of changing.
When his eyes beheld Santa, his mouth fell open and curved into the biggest, sweetest and most innocent grin.
Santa lowered himself to one knee, looked at the boy and said, "You must be Willy Mallard."
The boy gasped with surprise, and I must admit, I was impressed myself.
Santa reached into his coat and pulled out a scroll. He opened it, ran his white gloved finger down the parchment, and said, "Yes here you are on my list, you're one of my good little boys aren't you!"
Willy's legs were trembling with pent-up excitement as he nodded.
"Well, I believe I have something in here just for you!" Santa said, reaching into his big red sack.
I expected him to pull out a toy, but instead, he pulled out a New York Mets Baseball cap.
Little Willy started to cry, not sad tears, but tears of joy.
Santa asked him, "Would you like me to put it on you?"
Willy nodded again and Santa pulled off the red cap and replaced it with the new Mets cap. I don't think I have ever seen anyone as happy in my entire life as Willy was at that moment. Willy managed to squeak out, "Thank you Santa!" before he turned and ran back to his room, leaving me with a view of his diapered bottom wiggling beneath his jersey.
I didn't know until after Willy had run back into his room that I'd been crying myself. Santa stood up, cleared his throat and said, "Merry Christmas Max!"
I smiled and said, "Merry Christmas to you to Santa!"
In case you're wondering... Yes, I found my way back to my brother's room. At first, dad was a little bothered that I had taken so long, only to return without the coffee, but when I shared with them what I had just witnessed, he didn't seem to care too much about me giving away his coffee. It was then that my brother asked me, "So how did that guy playing Santa know your name?"
"I... I don't know!" I stammered, trying to remember if at any point, I had said who I was.
If you are enjoying this story, please send me a short (or even a long) email to let me know at m12@thedoghousemail.com. You're kind words are like fuel to my creative self!