The Gas Station - A christmas story
The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He
hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. He
had no decorations, no tree, no lights. It was just another day to
him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to
celebrate.
There were no children in his life. His wife had gone. He was
sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the
last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened
and a homeless man stepped through..
Instead of throwing the man out, George, Old George as he was known
by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and
warm up..
"Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see
you're busy. I'll just go"
"Not without something hot in your belly," George turned and opened
the Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's
hot and tasty. Stew. Made it myself. When you're done there's
coffee and it's fresh."
Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell.
"Excuse me be right back," George said. There in the driveway was
an old 53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver
jumped out. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver with a deep
Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken."
George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from
the cold; the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George
said as he turned away. "But mister. Please help..." The door of
the office closed behind George as he went in. George went to the
office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back
outside. He walked around the building and opened the garage,
started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was
waiting.
"Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever
looked at but she runs real good." George helped put the woman in
the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. George turned
and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave em the truck. Their
tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new..." George
thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The
thermos was on the desk, empty with a used coffee cup beside it.
"Well, at least he got something in his belly," George
thought.
George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It
cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where
the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for
something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered
that the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the
radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he
put a new one on. "Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the
winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old
Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the
car.
As he was working he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and
beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding
from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Help me." George
helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had
received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed
attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform
company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels.
He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct
tape can fix anything," he said, trying to make the policeman feel
at ease. "Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the
pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some
water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in
there. I'm going to get you an ambulance." The phone was dead.
"Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that talk box out in your
car."
He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard
destroying the two way radio. He went back in to find the policeman
sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me
there. The guy that shot me is still in the area." George sat down
beside him. "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I
ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for
bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right ya.
Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time
your gonna be right as rain." George got up and poured a cup of
coffee.
"How do you take your coffee?" he asked. "None for me," said the
officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I
ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same
time.
The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a
gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His
hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done
anything like this before.
"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer. "Son, why are
you doing this?" asked George. "You need to put the cannon away.
Somebody else might get hurt." The young man was confused. "Shut up
old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!"
The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George
said to the cop. "We got one too many in here now." He turned his
attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need
the money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I
got."
"Now put that pee shooter away." George pulled $150 out of his
pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of
the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the
gun, fell to his knees and began to cry.
"I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something
for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job. My rent is
due. My car got repossessed last week..."
George handed the gun to the cop.
"Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets
hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can." He got the
young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the
cop.
"Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup
of coffee. "Being stupid is one of the things that makes us human.
Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get
warm and we'll sort this thing out." The young man had stopped
crying.
He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm
sorry officer."
"Shut up and drink your coffee." the cop said.
George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an
ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns
drawn.
"Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.
"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"
"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did
this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man. Chuck
answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just
dropped his gun and ran."
George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other. "That
guy work here?," the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said.
"Just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job." The paramedics
came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned
over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"
Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy. And you too, George, and
thanks for everything." "Well, looks like you got one doozy of a
break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."
George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled
out a ring box. "Here you go. Something for the little woman. I
don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some
day."
The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever
saw. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something
to you."
"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my
memories. That's all I need." George reached into the box again. An
airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the
oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that
little man of yours."
The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that
the old man had handed him earlier. "And what are you supposed to
buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said. "Now
git home to your family."
The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be
here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still
good."
"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day
after."
George turned around to find that the stranger he offered coffee
before, had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you
left?"
"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger.
"You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"
"Well, after my wife passed away I just couldn't see what all the
bother was puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine
tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the
same by myself and besides I was getting a little chubby."
The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do
celebrate christmas, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed
me when I was cold and hungry. - The woman with child will bear a
son and he will become a great doctor. - The policeman you helped
will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. - The
young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not
take any for himself. That is the spirit of the season and you keep
it as good as any man."
George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do
you know all this?" asked the old man.
"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing.
And when your days are done you will be with Martha again." The
stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I
have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration
planned."
George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that
the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light
began to fill the room. "You see, George... it's my birthday. Merry
Christmas."
