Here Comes Curly Claus

Abstract

Here Comes Curly Claus Fred Chappell (bio) “What are them things poking out of your head?” Jerry tried to read the name on the cardboard tag pinned to Connie Morgan’s gray knit sweater. Or maybe she was Megan. The red crayoned letters on the green background were squeezed together and the light in this “day room” was uncertain. The dark ceiling made all the space shadowy. Red Candles were set upon the upright piano and upon the long sideboard against the north wall, and the flames danced, flickering. “These are my antlers,” Jerry said. He made a guess. “I am one of Santa’s reindeer, Miz Morgan.” “I ain’t no Morgan.” She glowered at him, leaning back in her wheelchair. “My name is Megan. You know what I’d do if I was a Morgan? I’d jump down in a well and drown myself; that’s what I’d do.” The woman seated next to her in one of the folding chairs took her left hand and patted it gently. “Now, Connie, you’d never do any such thing.” She was neatly dressed in a dark blue neck-high dress, and her tone when she spoke to Jerry suggested that she was accustomed to calming her friend and muting her declarations. “I’m Cordelia Scott. Connie and I have been here a long time now.” “I didn’t mean to upset her,” he said. “I read her name tag wrong.” “Actually,” Cordelia said, “Connie is a Morgan. She was married to Hank Morgan for forty-seven ears before he passed on. She has four children and six grandchildren.” Still staring aggressively into Jerry’s face, Connie replied. “I was born a Megan, and I’m a Megan now, and if you a-been married to Hank Morgan, you might just jump down in a well yourself.” “I would try not to,” Cordelia said, “and you shouldn’t be talking that way to this nice young man. It is good of him to come to see us at Christmas here at the rest home, and we should be grateful.” She let go Connie’s hand. “What is your name?” she asked, “Jerry Dennison,” he said. “But today I’m one of Santa’s helpers.” “Your antlers would make you out to be a reindeer.” “I’m a magic reindeer who can be an elf at the same time.” “Two for one.” [End Page 83] “That’s the idea,” Jerry said, “but it may not be clear to everybody.” “It ain’t to me,” Connie said. “Them horns sticking out of your head look mighty quair.” “I’m a special helper for Santa.” She shook her head. “It don’t make a speck of sense. Mamie Medford told us you would be an elf. That’s what Santy Claus uses for helpers.” “I couldn’t find an elf costume. I thought I’d better dress up for the occasion, but I don’t have anything but my regular clothes. Last time I was in Glosson’s Barbershop, I saw these antlers tacked up to hang coats on, and I asked. I thought I could come as a reindeer to be Christmas-like and help Santa at the same time. I borrowed some of these little bells and attached them.” He gave his head a vigorous shake, and the bells sounded, though not entirely merrily. “It’s the best I could do. I was hoping it would be okay.” “It’s very inventive,” Cordelia said. “Don’t you think so, Connie?” “I never heard of a reindeer being his helper. The reindeers pulls his sleigh, flying up in the air.” “But I’m special,” Jerry said. “Wait a second.” He dug into the pocket of his green plaid shirt and withdrew a red plastic ball with an elastic band. He fumbled it over his head and perched the ball on the tip of his nose. “See? Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer, that’s who I am. You know about Rudolf, don’t you?” She glared. “Now you look more quair than before. Are you some kind of crazy person?” “Now, Connie,” Cordelia said. “Santa will be here soon. I’ll...