OH CHRISTMAS TREE
By Stephen Murray
Last edited: Wednesday, November 2, 2022
This short story was "not rated" by the Author.
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Ever wonder what is in the minds of ornaments of a Christmas tree? This is a whimsical piece explaining the concerns of the ornaments.
OH, CHRISTMAS TREE
Noel and Holly were putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree. The sparkling lights, the red and gold tinsel and slender, silver icicles were all in place. Although many of the eclectic assortment of ornaments had been purchased over the years, several were gifts. All had special memories from Christmases of bygone years. Some were made out of wood, a few of them hand carved. There were many glass baubles of various shapes, sizes and colors with a mixture of patterns and paintings. A large number were of the inevitable ‘Made in China’ plastic variety. A couple had been knitted or sewn with tender loving care by friends and neighbors or purchased at arts and crafts fairs.
The sound of the alarm from the oven in the kitchen signaled that the homemade Christmas cookies were ready.
“Come on, Noel. I’ll need your help with the baked goodies,” Holly gushed.
“They sure smell delicious,” commented Noel as he followed her along the hallway.
The sound of Christmas carols could be heard from the radio, as the maze of stranded lights flashed and twinkled throughout the six-foot tall, perfectly shaped, noble fir tree.
A musical ornament in the shape of a young man was plugged into one of the light sockets on the tree, replacing the bulb. Made out of plastic, he sported a drum around his neck with a short stick in each of his tiny little hands. Within seconds, ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ started to play from his base.
“Dear Lord, no,” complained Grumpy, one of the set of the seven dwarves spread throughout the tree. “Don’t tell me I have to listen to that pa rum pum pum pum every five minutes for the next three weeks.”
Angel was straddling the top of the tree, her cherubic little face overseeing the proceedings like a high court judge, as was her custom. “Now, now, I will have none of that blasphemy coming from my tree. Please do not use the Lord’s name in vain,” she reprimanded gracefully.
“Yes,” chimed in the optimistic Happy, another one of the dwarves from further around, his little red cap almost covering is face. “Just be thankful you were not left in the box. They don’t always put all seven of us out.”
“Achoo!”
“Bless you, Sneezy” said Angel.
“It’s alright for you, Angel,” Grumpy groused. “You always get the prized spot.”
“Don’t know what you’re complaining about, Grumpy,” said the little hand-crafted woolen gingerbread man with his arms outstretched. “This year I’m stuck next to your buddy, Sneezy. He never stops.”
“Achoo!” Sneezy was at it again. “It’s your ginger that’s making me sneeze.”
“Bless you,” repeated Angel.
“Are you on display this year, Balthazar?” inquired Gaspar suspended from his branch in the middle of the tree.
“Yes,” replied the regal Balthazar. “And I have such a magnificent view looking out the window. I can see the snow falling on the ground, the candy canes lining the drive, and the sun setting. I can actually see some early stars in the sky. It’s the first time I have been able to see outside. It’s truly magical.”
“Not for me,” observed Melchior. “I’m facing the wall. I can’t see a thing.”
“Bah, humbug! Me too. They always have me facing the wall,” moaned the plastic, curmudgeonly Scrooge, his eyes peering over his pince-nez glasses.
Melchior ignored him. “I don’t understand them. We are the wise men and have been made from porcelain and look so resplendent in our rich-colored and beautiful robes. Balthazar, Gaspar and I are a set of three. Why don’t they display us together, instead of scattering us all around the tree? It’s ridiculous.”
“Well at least you are positioned where you can see and be seen,” observed the hand-painted partridge in a pear tree glass bauble. “I’m stuck at the bottom, the lowest branch on the tree. You know what that means. I’m going to get bashed around by everyone as they push and shove all the gifts under the tree. I may not even survive.”
“That’s true. Every year one of us falls from the tree. More often than not, one dies. I was fortunate. I was just wounded,” reminded the little china reindeer, his broken antler providing the proof.
A quiet fell over the tree as they all recalled previous casualties in their minds.
“Ho, ho, ho!” guffawed Santa Claus through his white beard, the stitching coming apart from his red, sewn, velvet outfit. “Let’s all lighten up. ‘Tis the season to be jolly, Fa-la-la-la-la and all that jazz,” he continued, attempting to spread mirth and merriment.
Pa rum pum pum pum struck up the Little Drummer Boy ornament again.
Grumpy groaned.
“It’s not my fault,” retorted the young drummer apologetically. “It’s how I was programmed.”
The heater switched itself on creating a gentle breeze through the air vent, causing the little wooden rocking horse to motion back and forth. “Wait a minute. Aha! I thought I wouldn’t be able to see anything this year either. No offense tinsel, but they have you covering my eye. With this breeze I might be able to maneuver myself to the other side. I might also be able to move my tail from the warm light bulb. At least it’s a flashing one, so I do get some respite otherwise my tail might get burned.”
“Wheeeeeee. This is fun,” chuckled the wooden dreidel, spinning from the breeze.
“It’s making me nauseous,” countered the Star of David.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” said Grumpy. “You have no business even being on a Christmas Tree.”
“Why not? The tree is a pagan custom,” retorted the Star.
“That’s enough, now” chided the Angel.
Another beneficiary of the breeze was the sugar plum fairy. She began twirling in her pretty, pink tutu and was happy it presented an opportunity to display her graceful elegance. It also provided some much needed warmth for the delicate fairy. “I can’t imagine why they dressed me in this skimpy outfit and made me part of a winter ballet,” she wondered aloud, as she did every year.
“Well, look at what they have done to me. Created me from velvet,” chortled Santa. “Mrs Claus has never seen me so skinny. When has anyone not seen a fat Santa?”
The large glass circular snow dome housing a miniature Christmas Village was hanging on a branch alongside. “You think you’ve got problems? Every so often someone stops by and turns me upside down to see the snow flurry. Do you know how squeamish that makes me feel? Thank goodness I’m hung tightly with a bow. If I was on one of those metal hangers, I’d be a goner by now.”
“Yes, I’ve seen how you look in previous years,” commented Doc pedantically, hanging from the branch opposite. “Positively unhealthy.”
“Achoo!” The indelicate sound emanated from Sneezy once more.
“God bless you for the third time,” Angel said in her soft and dulcet tones.
“God bless us everyone.”
“Bah, humbug! That you, Tiny Tim?”
“Yes, Mr. Scrooge,” he replied, peering through the lush green pine needles two boughs above Ebenezer.
“Why do they insist on bringing you out every year?”
“Ah, be quiet,” wailed Grumpy.”Why do they even bring you out at all?”
“You should all be thankful. It doesn’t look like I’m going to make it to the tree this year at all,” intervened the glass bauble containing a gold plated Christmas tree. “I personify Christmas, by playing ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ when I replace one of the bulbs on a strand of lights. And even when I am on the tree, they don’t always plug me into the socket. Remember last year? I wasn’t heard once.”
“Well, you must admit, your song does go on a bit long. I could melt before hearing the end of it,” noted the snowman. He was created from two golf balls, with an orange tee as his nose protruding out, and a black tee placed upside down on his head representing a cap. A black satin bow was placed between the balls to indicate a scarf. “And speaking of location, I always see very little. Because of my hefty weight, I’m always hung close to the main trunk.”
“Hark, I hear voices along the corridor. Hush everyone,” cautioned the sugar plum fairy.
“Ho,ho,ho! I thought it was only ‘hark’ when the herald angels sing.” Santa laughed at his own joke.
“Quickly, do we have anyone from Bedford Falls on the tree this year?” asked Angel.
“Where’s Bedford Falls?” inquired Dopey.
“Don’t you remember ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’? It’s only the best Christmas movie made ever,” responded the little silver plated bell, with a tone of disbelief.
“Yes, I’m here,” said the circular bauble painted with the movie poster of the famous Frank Capra film.
“Do you have any pearls of wisdom for us, before they switch off the lights?” Angel asked.
“Well, teacher says ‘every time a bell rings, an Angel gets his wings’,” announced the bauble. The little silver- plated bell rung on the tree.
“I’m heading upstairs,” said Holly.
‘The Little Drummer Boy’ started to play.
“Be right there, honey.” Noel unplugged the tree lights from the wall. The ornaments fell silent. It was dark, except for the lights outside hanging like icicles from the roof. Balthazar was in awe and stared outside in amazement.
The room became quiet as Noel’s footsteps could be heard climbing the staircase.
“Can we now all just go to sleep?” pleaded Sleepy as he yawned slowly.
“You’ve been sleeping for the entire year,” reminded the cuddly teddy, with the message ‘hug a bear’ across his chest.
“Sleepy’s right. We have a full schedule ahead of us and we’ll need all the energy we can muster,” said Angel. “This is the first day out of the box, and many of you have had your say. Let’s remember our purpose here. We’re here to spread the Christmas spirit. It is not just a day on the calendar. It is not merely a religious holiday. It is a season. A season of goodwill. Christmas is a frame of mind; a feeling. It’s a reminder to everyone to count their blessings and help those less fortunate. Loving, giving, caring and sharing are our key words. Right, Grumpy?”
“I suppose,” he acknowledged begrudgingly.
“Right, Ebenezer? I don’t have to remind you of Christmas past and future, do I?”
“Of course not . I’ll play my part,” Scrooge responded dismissively.
“And peace. Don’t forget peace. Christmas is also about peace throughout the world,” reminded Gaspar.
“Hopefully, that is a given,” Angel replied.
“God Bless us, everyone,” said Tiny Tim again.
“Amen,” whispered Angel, as she hoped and prayed fervently that the promise of a better tomorrow, always the heart of every Christmas, would actually come to pass and chart a new course for mankind.
Stephen Murray,
stephen@casandras.net
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Web Site:
www.authorstephenmurray.com
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