Watch Out Above!
A Christmas Story
written by: Tom Minder
@tom_minder
“Here you go, Nick. One hot dog boiled to perfection,” said Sammy, owner and bartender at Stadium Suds.
Nick bit into his late evening meal. “Not bad, Sammy. But it needs something.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled a small bottle of liquid. Unscrewing the cap, he inhaled the escaping aroma. “My special red sauce. Adds a new dimension.”
Sammy waved his hand in front of his nose. “What’s in it?”
“That’s a secret. I used to put it on my franks for my best customers when I worked concessions at the stadiums.”
He applied the sauce and took a bite. Clutching his throat, he fell off the stool. After being helped up by adjacent drinkers, he smiled. “Wow, this is a really good batch.”
Sammy picked up the bottle and sniffed. “Jeez, Nick. Is that crushed jalapeno? It smells lethal.”
“It takes you to a new level my friend. In fact, Rudolpho leaves his feet for a second or two after lapping it up from his bowl.”
He held up the bottle to the light. “I’m tweaking the formula. Once I get Rudolpho to fly, the sky’s the limit. No more hustling red hots.” He nodded to the tap.
Sammy drew another Yuengling, grabbed a fresh coaster and placed it in front of Nick. “So what are you going to do for employment before you train your Great Dane to fly. Christmas is coming up.”
“Seasonal work, Sammy. My cousin, Santa, can always use a few more elves this time of year.”
This drew stares from his bar mates.
“What?” asked Nick.
“Nick Santorino is Santa Claus’s cousin?” said Sammy. “Maybe you need to slow down on the Lager.”
“He is!” said Nick. “His great grandfather and mine were goombahs in the old country. His went into toy making, and mine sailed to the U.S. to make his fortune in rolled meats.”
Nick turned to the other patrons and lifted his glass. “To Santa, my cousin and a sweet guy.”
***
The next morning, Brenda shook Nick’s shoulder. “Get up, Nicky. I’m off to work.” Only a grunt from her husband.
She opened the curtains after tripping over Nick’s shoes. “I just hope I can face people after last night. Imaging telling folks your dog can fly and Santa Claus is your cousin.”
Nick opened his eyes and shaded them from the bright sunlight. “Did I say all that?”
“It’s all around the neighborhood. The new mailman told me.”
“Freddy the mailman, your old high school flame?”
“He’s a nice guy with a good job.” She smiled. “And as I remember, a great dancer.”
“But does he know Santa Claus and have a flying dog?”
A shoe clipped Nick in the nose. “Hey, Brenda!”
“And don’t feed that stuff to the dog. He’s old and gets the runs.”
***
Nick fell back to sleep. A wet tongue interrupted his dream. “Now, Lady Gaga. Stop that. I’m a married man.”
He opened his eyes. Rudolpho had him pinned and was slobbering on him. “OK, OK. Give me a minute, pal. I know you’re hungry.” He smiled. “Hey, how about some breakfast with that special sauce you like?”
***
Nick opened a new fifty-seven pound bag of dog chow. “Man, Rudolpho. How can you eat this stuff day in and day out?”
The Great Dane buried his face into the bowl oblivious to his master’s culinary judgement.
“I have just what you need, my friend. A little ‘hair of the dog’ if you’ll excuse the pun.”
He unscrewed the cap and held it up to his best friend.
Rudolpho looked up and squealed.
“Now, now. It’s good for you.” Nick emptied the bottle into the chow and stirred as Rudolpho nosed the bowl. “This stuff will add some spring to your step.” He laughed. “And maybe help you soar above those cats that terrorize you.”
***
“Good, Rudolpho. That was six feet. Your best yet. But you need lift. Let me show you.”
Nick ran around his small back yard, flapping his arms and hopping. “You see Rudolpho. It’s really quite simple.”
“Ahem. Mr. Santorino? I have a special delivery for Mrs. Santorino,” said the mailman.
Nick stopped flapping, put down the poop bag, and caught his breath. “I’ll sign for it, Freddy.”
The mailman handed over the package and other mail. “Well, I’ll be. Nick Santorino from high school. You graduated a year before Brenda and me. So many Italians in the neighborhood, I didn’t make the connection.”
“Yeah, small world,” said Nick. “And now you see Brenda every day.”
“It’s like old times, Nick. Hey, what were you doing? Teaching your old dog a new trick.”
Nick looked over to Rudolpho who was resting, half asleep. “He just might surprise everyone soon.”
Freddy laughed. “Well, as they say, ‘Every dog has his day.’”
“Exactly.”
***
Nick leafed through the mail. A red envelope from B. Natale, Barrow, Alaska stood out. “Good, a response from Babbo.” He opened the envelope.
Dear Nick:
Sorry about my cell being inactive. Too many calls offering me an extended warrantee on my sleigh. Anyway, you have my address. I would be happy to have you as a helper during the busy season. If you can get to the Wiley Post-Will Rogers Airport, I can have someone pick you up. Just say you work for Babbo.
How’s Brenda and that crazy dog of yours?
Your cousin,
Babbo
***
Nick checked the airfare to Barrow. Pretty steep this time of year, and three plane changes. Rudolpho ambled over and put his face on Nick’s lap. “Sorry, buddy. They charge extra for pets. I don’t think they’ll accept you as an emotional support animal. Especially since you would take up an entire seat.”
Rudolpho licked Nick’s plate, empty except for smeared red sauce. The dog raced around the room and hopped ten feet or so, only the wall stopping further progress.
“Hey, that’s great. Let’s go outside and see how far you can really go.”
The Great Dane ran for the backdoor before Nick could attach the leash. When he opened the door, Rudolpho dashed outside and began to fly. He circled the yard and, if not for the wooden fence, would have drifted away.
“Rudolpho, this is our solution. I’ll fly to the North Pole on your back.”
His dog slobbered his approval. “We’ll work out the kinks for the next week, and then we’ll go. I just need to make enough red sauce.”
***
Word of a mysterious object in the night sky spread around the neighborhood. Each daybreak, red stains were spotted on laundry hung out to dry, and fecal matter was found on roofs.
Nick could hear that Freddy was getting chummy with Brenda. Their talk seemed to focus on the old days, while they also discussed the latest stories about the midnight flyer.
Brenda walked into the dining room.
“So, how’s Freddy, my love?,” said Nick. “I guess you both have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Nicky, you’re always at that bar or playing with your dog. I get lonely for some human contact. Now, Freddy’s a real gentleman with an honest job. I’m happy for the attention.”
She riffled through the mail and huffed. “More bills. We can’t continue to survive with one salary. Your unemployment is ending soon. You need to get a job, and pronto.”
“I’m working on it, Brenda. My cousin Babbo offered me some seasonal work. It’s up North. I can be back on Christmas morning.”
Brenda stamped her foot. “So you’re leaving me alone on Christmas Eve? No feast of the Seven Fishes? It will just be me and Rudolpho?”
“Actually, he might be coming with me. Think of it as a few weeks of peace and quiet.”
***
Next morning, Brenda walked in with the mail, picked up the remote, and turned off ESPN. “Freddy and I have been discussing your unusual behavior. He’s suggesting I leave you and live with him.”
“Now, Brenda. Be patient. Things will clear up soon.” He looked at his Great Dane. “Hey, you wouldn’t be taking Rudolpho with you, would you?”
Brenda threw the mail at Nick. “Darn right, I would. Poor pooch looks exhausted all of the time. And his backside is red. I have to get him out of here while he can still move around.”
She turned and walked away, petting Rudolpho on the way out. “And his breath is terrible.”
Waving a finger, she said, “Straighten yourself out by tomorrow, Nicky. or Rudolpho and I are leaving.”
Nick and Rudolpho exchanged glances after Brenda went out, slamming the door.
“Well, my friend. I guess tonight we fly.”
***
Nick observed Brenda’s breathing. The slow pace gave way to snoring. Rudolpho started to howl. Nick stroked his fur. “Shoosh, Rudolpho, let her sleep. We have a trip to prepare for.”
Preceded by the Great Dane, Nick crept downstairs, careful to avoid the squeaky step. On tippytoes, he entered the kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled essential components for his sauce. He fumbled them onto the table and caught the tabasco before it could roll off.
Using the glow of light through the curtained window to navigate the kitchen, he located the flashlight, then looked for a container sturdy enough to hold his special mixture.
Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, the ingredients blended together. Smoke arose before the cooking started. Rudolpho backed away and lay in the corner, paw over the eyes.
Nick slid the bowl into the oven, set the temp to 550, and set a timer on his watch.
***
The snow was falling steadily outside. Nose to the window, Nick noticed a coating already on Rudolpho’s doghouse. “How can it be snowing, boy?” he asked his partner in crime. “It was sixty yesterday.” He shivered. “We’ll have to dress warm.”
He returned to the bedroom and edged to the walk-in closet. Cupping his hand over the flashlight, he allowed just enough light to illuminate the area. I have no heavy coat, he thought. Wait a minute, there’s Brenda’s fake fur, a little musty, but full length. Yes, that will do nicely.
On the shelf above the coat rack, he smiled as he spotted his Christmas sweater, covered with Gingerbread cookies, candy canes, and snowmen. This will do nicely for Rudolpho.
Coat and sweater in hand, he snuck back downstairs as his watch chimed. He dumped the clothes on the table, put on oven mittens, and removed the bowl, which was now emitting a strange glow. “We’ll let this cool off for a few minutes, Rudolpho, then pour the end result into a two gallon jug.”
He found a note pad and a ballpoint and sat to compose his going away note:
Brenda:
I’m off with Rudolpho to the North Pole. Babbo says I can be an elf, and, I guess, our dog a reindeer until all the gifts are delivered. Should be a nice source of income. See you Christmas morning.
Your loving husband,
Nicky
P.S. I took your fur coat.
***
Rudolpho lapped up his newly fermented late night drink, while fidgeting in his new sweater. Nick, in his new winter fur, allowed his dog to finish, pass some foul-smelling gas, then climbed onto his back.
A gentle kick in the side propelled the Great Dane forward as Nick held on. In a few seconds, they were airborne. “Up and away, my friend. We’re off to help Babbo bring joy to everyone.”
***
Two hours later, Nick slid off Rudolpho’s back outside a 7-11 in Winnipeg, Manitoba. “Man, it’s cold, my friend. Let’s find something to warm us up.”
Rudolpho shivered and lay down, exhausted. “I guess the Christmas sweater isn’t enough for you.” Nick removed Brenda’s fur and covered his dog, who wagged his half-frozen tail in appreciation.
The Big Bite Hot Dogs were on sale. Nick admired the masterpiece: Peppers, tomatoes, onions, cheese wiz, on top of a big fat frank, and encased in a bun that seemed up to the task. He bought six of them.
He filled Big Gulp containers with Power Berry, saw that they carried Pay Day bars and grabbed a dozen. They were selling cotton scarves also, so he bought four.
Rudolpho chomped on the Big Bites, spiked by Nick’s red sauce, slurped the Power Berry, and devoured the Pay Days. Revived, he came back to his old self and licked Nick’s face.
He wasn’t giving up the fur, however. Nick reentered the store and asked the clerk for the nearest clothing shop. Fifteen miles away. He offered to buy the man’s overcoat. At first, the man refused, saying it was his only coat. Nick offered fifty dollars and he reluctantly agreed. Nick resumed his trip newly fashioned in a stained, ripped, blue parka.
“OK, Rudolpho, we’re almost there. Just a few more hours of flight time.”
***
They almost flew past Barrow, Alaska, but saw the landing lights for the airport. “We’re here, my friend. Babbo’s home town.”
They landed without benefit of air traffic control. After skidding to a stop, they walked to the terminal building. A policeman held up his hand to the strangers and was about to report the encounter, when Nick said, “I know Babbo Natale. I’m his cousin, Nick Santorino.” Rudolpho squealed his assent. The officer pressed a speed number. “Babbo, we got a Nick Santorino here. Know him…OK.”
The officer smiled and waved over a shuttle. “Welcome to Barrow, Mr. Santorino. The driver will take you to your connecting flight.”
***
“Ho, ho, ho. Nick, long time, no see. I’m glad you could make it.” Babbo and his wife, Holly, bent down and petted Rudolpho. “Hi buddy. Boy, you’re a big one.”
“And he can fly,” Nick said. “He took us all the way to Barrow.”
Babbo smiled. “Maybe you can be an extra reindeer for Christmas Eve, Rudolpho. I’ll introduced you to the flight crew.”
***
After demonstrating his red sauce at the weekly spaghetti dinner, Nick was made sous chef for the work crew. Even the reindeer loved the mixture and slurped it up at every meal. As a result of this menu change, productivity increased, the elves and animals were happy, and Babbo could focus on the Christmas Eve flight path.
Nick noticed the obvious affection between Babbo and Holly. He realized that he missed Brenda. He sent her a North Pole Christmas Card:
Dear Brenda:
Bringing a special surprise for you on Christmas. Please don’t run off with Freddy, we need you.
Love,
Nicky and Rudolpho
***
Christmas Eve morning arrived. Gifts were placed on the sleigh and Rudolpho was selected to be the trailing reindeer, his red rear end a perfect taillight for the vehicle and a complement to Rudolph’s nose navigating up front.
Each animal was fed oats, barley, Nick’s sauce, and a shot of Babbo’s special eggnog. They were given new collars with jingling bells.
The elves feasted on arctic grayling omelets, Eskimo potatoes, Nick’s sauce, and North Pole cocktails. Each received a new red coat with white leather belt.
“Climb in next to me, Nick,” Babbo said. “The goombahs will be delivering Christmas all around the world.”
One final ooogah from Babbo’s horn signaled goodbye to Mrs. Natale. The Christmas merrymakers flew off and the sleigh glided over the snowy landscape. Elves were dispatched to each house, gifts personalized for each recipient. Babbo delivered the larger satchels, effortlessly sliding down chimneys.
***
“You got this next one, Nick. Just inhale a bit before take the plunge.”
Nick climbed out, took a breath and jumped onto the roof. As he brushed off the snow, Babbo whispered something to him. “Oh, Yeah. Ho, Ho, Ho,” Nick shouted. Babbo returned a thumbs up.
“It’s Santa, we better go to bed,” Nick heard from excited voices inside. He smiled and waited for the kids to take their place under covers.
He returned a few minutes later with a glass of milk and two gingerbread cookies. He and Babbo feasted on the treasure. “Babbo, these are good,” said Nick. “And I haven’t had a cold glass of milk in years.”
***
They approached Winnipeg. Nick pointed to the 7-11 and told Babbo his story about the coat. Nick climbed out and jumped to the ground. He walked in just as the clerk was closing up. Removing his Christmas coat, he handed it to the man. “Merry Christmas, my friend.”
Nick was tearful when he returned to the sleigh. “Good job, Nick,” said Babbo. “Now you understand Christmas.”
***
As morning approached, they floated above Nick’s house. “This is where I get off, Babbo. I’ll never forget this. Now I understand what I have, what I can’t lose, and what happiness I can give others.”
Babbo handed a sack to Nick. “Give my best to Brenda. You have a good woman there.” Nick nodded as he unleashed Rudolpho.
Nick turned to the elves and reindeer. “Thanks, friends.” He reached into his pocket and handed a piece of paper to Babbo. “Here’s my secret recipe for the red sauce. It will keep you all warm for the coming seasons.”
***
Brenda came downstairs early Christmas morning. Nick was asleep on the couch, underneath a worn blue parka. His arm was resting on Rudolpho who was snoring and covered with her fake fur. She hung the coats by the fireplace, covered Rudolpho with a blanket, then slid next to Nick on the couch, pulling an Afghan over them.
She awoke an hour later and noticed a large package labeled BRENDA poking from under the tree. She slid off the couch, picked up the package, removed the ribbon, and unwrapped it. Inside was a full length mink coat. The card read: MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY LOVE. NICKY AND RUDOLPHO.
“Merry Christmas, you big goofs,” she whispered to them. She heard bells pass over the house. “And you, too. Babbo. Merry Christmas to all.”
- Watch Out Above! – A Christmas Story - December 24, 2023
