Well hello there! Come on in out’o the cold. Yessir it’s right cold out there this winter, what with the white out and all. That there lake wind, well it can be right deadly it can. Have a look around! I’ve everthin’ you could possibly want for your husband or your brother. Hell maybe even your grandmother might want to try some of my best vanilla tobaccy in her pipe. I know my old grandmother was a piper. Yessir she had a beautiful ole’ Gatlin’burlier that she carried everywhere she went and you never saw her without it! What a won’erful ole’ woman she was…well until that day…hey there, you might wanna watch out over there though…a bit messy it is, and p’raps even a bit unstable. Whatcha sayin’? A story? Oh yes…well I’ve been here a great many years. What is it now, er…two thousand twelve? Fourteen you say?! Well now how time flies by it does…yessir. Chicago, well it’s my home no matter how cold it gets I s’ppose. Sometimes, well a person can lose track o’ their home now can’t they? Even after she left I stayed, because it’s my home until they bury my ole’ bones in the dead, frozen ground. Eh? A story you say? Well you got the littl’uns there with you I see…maybe a story. Hmmmm…so you’d like to hear a story…is that so? What in the world do you think an old man barely gettin’ by on the meager proceeds of a broken down sikar shoppe would have to say of interest? I’ve been sellin’ fine Cuban Criollo sticks for thirty years or so, and in all of that time it’s been the same old borin’ thin’…people pushin’ people who are in their way. So, what could I tell you? Wait…there might be one thin’…happened years ago. Yeesss, now I recall…one year…right ’round Christmas…well somethin’ extraordinary happened.
You see we get some powerful cold winters ‘round here and back in ’96 was one of the worst! Those blustery gusts of wind pounded the bustlin’ Chicago street, dippin’ into corners and alleyways; whiskin’ back into the street pummelin’ the cars which passed hurriedly by. It was like old man winter had these long, boney old fingers that crept under the tightest sealed doors just lookin’ for a warm heart to squeeze the life blood outta. As I recall, the powers that be worked extra hard in decoratin’ for the holiday festivities that year. There was tinsel and garland stretched from light pole to light pole, and you should have seen the Christmas lights! Oh how they twinkled and sparkled! Rainbows splashed smooth and carefree over the surface of everythin’ on the block as far as my keen old eyes could see. Why it was even so bright that it illuminated those sporadic, fluffy snow flakes before they had a chance to fall to the ground, makin’ them glow in the night light! Yessir…those bright, lively lights of Michigan Avenue reminded everyone that it was Christmastime, and that extraordinary thin’? Well if I’m not too awful mistaken, I believe it happened on the night of Christmas Eve.
Yessir…that night the Salvation Army bells rang loud and true as so many hard workin’ transients earned their minimum wage. The old bums were funny to look at they were. All the Santa’s looked to have been starved or dietin’ b’cause their huge red suits were just a hangin’ loose-like on them, drooping down and draggin’ on the cold, wet sidewalks. Their hats were askew and most of ‘em, well I do believe they’d been partakin’ in a bit too much eggnog and rum! “Ho-ho-ho!” they said. “Ho-ho-ho!” Children ran hither and to from their parents, screamin’ at them to come look in this window and that one. The laughter of children, well I don’t believe there’s much else in the world more delightful than that…well exceptin’ for my cherry tobaccy of course.
Many a rosy-cheeked child had their noses planted firmly on the toy store plate glass, watchin’ the train go by huffin’ and puffin’ from its chimney stack. The noises that came outta that store and the colors and lights, well any little’un would’ve been mesmerized…I know I was. Others yearned over the St. Bernard puppy in the window down the block over there. There were two pups in the window as I recall…a Dalmatian too, and the two pups would wrestle and yap at each other. It was like they were excited ‘bout Christmas too! See look just that way out my window there and you can barely make out the bright purple awnin’ over Peter’s Pets.
The candy store had its own enticin’ treats just-a-lurin’ those children in like a fishin’ pole with a really fancy ole’ Heddon Lucky 13. Have you ever fished with a Lucky 13? I swear you’d catch a large mouth not an ounce shy of four pounds if you did! Oh but there I go again gettin’ side-tracked. Well there were licorice whips and lollipops; red and green M&M’s inside giant chocolate Santa’s and these giant round balls that would bust yer teeth if you weren’t real careful. What were those thin’s called? Yes! You got it young’un. Yer right! They were jawbreakers! You got a right smart boy there ma’am, if I do say so myself! Well they had salted peanuts and those flavored jelly beans, and they had chocolate mints and candy canes. And the cotton candy? My goo’ness it came in every color and flavor known to man and the very secon’ it touched yer tongue well it melted away in a sweet stream of goo down the back of yer throat! Yep that old candy store’s been there a long time it has, and to this day they still sell one of my favorites…that Swiss chocolate bar. You know the one…it looks like a pyramid or a triangle or somethin’ and it has these bits of rich toffee that just melt on your tongue with the chocolate. Could never find the will power to stop myself from goin’ in that candy store and buyin’ myself one or two of those candy bars. The kids that Christmas Eve…you know, in ’96, they had the same problem. They all had Swiss chocolate melted on their fingers.
Funny thin’ about that year…I knew that some folks were snuggled up close to the glowin’ embers of their fireplaces, sippin’ cocoa with marshmallows or spiked eggnog, completely ignorant of the wind that snaked off that frozen expanse of Lake Michigan. I knew that as sure as I know what flavor Copenhagen sits on my shelves, so it amazed me to see how many more were scramblin’ up and down the hectic sidewalks of downtown Chicago in search of that last ever-lovin’ Christmas gift. It didn’ matter that the orphanages were packed and people were dyin’; it didn’ matter that sirens echoed in the Chicago night what with people slidin' on the ice and smashin' their shiny new Benz up inta a crumpled up ball of worthless fiber glass. That's all they make'em with these days you know...fiber glass! Those people...well all they was ever good at was zeroin' in on that last ever-lovin' Christmas present so's they could kiss up to their boss or say they was sorry for cheatin' on their wife...well they couldn' even see right past the tip of their very own noses when it came to the true meanin' of Christmastime. Oh my…what they did sometimes to buy the perfect gift." - "Oh my...it sometimes shook me to my very bones to witness what those people did to find the perfect gift...the perfect tool they needed to fix the mess they'd made of their lives.
You see, I watch the hubbub from these foggy windows of my cigar shop every year, and I’ve seen some thin’s…some amazin’ thin’s but I don’t want to waste your valuable time talkin’ about traffic and irate holiday bargain hunters. No, I think I’d better suit your time by tellin’ you about the only miracle I’ve ever witnessed, and it was that very Christmas Eve night back in ’96. As I recall, the blare of car horns was almost rhythmical as drivers loudly signaled pedestrians to move out of their way or be brutally run down. Those holiday shoppers…now they were a vile bunch. Lord help a human soul if they got in the way of a holiday shopper driven’ on Michigan Avenue. The pedestrians on the other hand, were all but unmindful of the vehicles, for their only goal; the foremost focal point of their efforts you know, was to overtake the men and women walkin’ in front of them who were destined for that last Cabbage Patch doll or the only red wagon left in the city. Oh, they’d run by my shop in droves tryin’ to get down there to yonder toy store, and once in a while, one would slide to a stop on the patch of ice right out there under my awnin’ and wander in lookin’ for a good cherry pipe tobaccy for the husband or brother or whoever.
I could stand back there behind that counter…see that one way back there? Well, I guess it is kinda hard to see what with all my collectibles and such piled up, but its there. I could sit up on that old bar stool way back there and still I could hook my old nostrils around the teasin’, tantalizin’ aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. The Starbucks at the South end of the street always had some special brew percolatin’ it seemed. Sometimes I could catch a whiff of vanilla, and other times it was hazelnut that whipped through my door on the Chicago wind. Michigan Avenue is like that you know…you can’t hide yer business from the shop across the way. We all know what we all do…we are neighbors out here you see. If I turned my head a particular way, I could also catch the scent of sweet breads, baked fresh and just out of the oven. Cinnamon and spice, pumpkin breads and the sweet tang of hot apple cider were always temptin’ me; they still do! I could almost taste the hot honey butter as it melted into the soft loaf and it nuther mattered if I’d eaten before I opened the shop or not. I coulda eaten a six course meal and still have my ole’ stomach gnarlin’ at me when I caught a whiff of those breads. See there was a bakery directly across the way…oohhh, what was the name of that dang store…Albert’s…Andrew’s. Drat this ole’ brain of mine; it forgets everythin’ these days! Alan’s…Alll…no, Alazar! Alazar’s Bakery was the name of it, and that ole’ Alazar, well he was a fat bastard who hated everyone! As I recall he came in here a time or two…lookin’ for a good sweet tobaccy I bet, but somehow the bastard always managed to leave without even a snuff, always a-lookin’ down at my wares in a snooty way was. He would holler at the young’uns, who put their cold little hands on his plate-glass to warm them, and if they didn’ move away from the glass well the bastard would chase ‘em away with a broom! Oh and any strays wandered near, well I could hear the poor devils yelpin’ all the way over here even over the noise of the traffic! Many a starvin’ mongrel was attracted to the smells of Michigan Avenue and I felt sorry for the poor whelps, so I kept food in here for ‘em. Yep, I do believe I still have a few cans of Alpo back there in the pantry, in case a skinny pup shows up at my door, its ribs a’showin. These days, what with the micro-chip and all, well a lot less of ‘em come around, but I feed ‘em when they do. Yessir, that Alazar, he was not a very nice man. Well now, lookin’ across the way you can’t even tell it was a bakery can you? They took the awnin’ down a few years back and boarded up the windows. Oh I ’magine one day they’ll open’r up again and turn it into a clothin’ store or a tax return office or somethin’ useful like that, but when it was a bakery, well those were the days!
That year though…back in ’96, Alazar hired himself an apprentice. He was a young boy ’round about the age of nineteen or twenty. The lad’s name was Zachary and I remember him well. He was always smilin’ and sayin’ hello to me from across the way, and then that bastard Alazar would yell at him and tell him to get back to work. But Zachary, well he always had a smile on him. He never looked put out or sad or even irritated at that Alazar who wouldn’t leave him alone. I remember hearin’ old Alazar hollerin’ at Zachary from all the way over here. I remember because it struck me how loud the bastard could be even over the Christmas Eve traffic. I had no customers in the store so I meandered on out into the cold night to look at the crowds and the lights, and the sights, if you know what I mean. Really, if truth be told, I was only goin’ out in the icy air to see what the bastard Alazar was up to.
“Sweep the sidewalk! How many times must I tell you to sweep the filthy walkway, boy?”
That boy Zachary bustled across the sidewalk pushin’ and pullin’ the broom so fast that there was a cloud of dirt and snow followin’ him across the concrete. Alazar followed along at first, screamin’ at the boy. I swear it was like he couldn’t shut up!
“Useless boy! I should fire you right now!” Alazar kept yellin’ at him until he started to choke on the dust in the air, and finally went back into the bakery, slammin’ the glass door behind him. I watched Zach for a bit, whistlin’ and sweepin’, and he never slouched or uttered a negative word toward the baker. No, not Zachary. He wasn’t like that you know.
I was just about to go back into my store and light up a peach cognac stogie when I saw somethin’ out of the corner of my eye. Now I’ve been here on this busy Michigan Avenue for over thirty years, and every day for thirty years this poor fella would wander down the street, lookin’ for food I’d guess. I found out later that his name was Bill, and right or wrong, every shop keep and store owner on Michigan Avenue took to callin’ him Stutterin’ Bill. The first time I ever heard him talk well I like to fall right out of this here chair but for his stutter! Why that ole’ boy sounded like a woodpecker when he talked! Yep you laugh little’un b’cause it was right funny soundin’ it was. Would you all like a drink or somethin’? I’m sure I got some coffee in that pot back there and maybe a soda or two in the cold box for the littl’uns there. No? Well alright then…but you let me know if I can getcha anythin’ now.
Well, eventually I got used to ole’ Bill’s stutter; the man seemed to be around every other day or so and it got to the point where I would wonder what’d become of him if I didn’t hear his stutter at least twice a week. But when the old bastard baker Alazar hired young Zach, well it seems as if Stutterin’ Bill was there just about every day. It was obvious that young Zach took a likin’ to Bill. Well that day…you know back in ’96, Stutterin’ Bill was there bigger’n day, and he walked up to young Zach like they were the best of chums. He had a stutter that I could hear over the street, for the traffic, it had lulled you see.
“Z-zach! H-h-hi Za-ach!” Yeah he stuttered alright…turns out he was a dummy. He had a few sandwiches missin’ outta his ole’ picnic basket, he did. To this day I believe that he must have been hurt in a war or somethin’…maybe he was a vet who lost a few marbles over seas. I served in the Army you know. I went to Nam I did. Saw a lot of bad shi- uh sorry ma’am…stuff. I saw a lot of bad stuff over there in them jungles but that’s another story for another day I s’ppose. I don’t know for sure what caused ole’ Bill to be the way he was, but I do know one thin’…that boy Zach he sure took to the man. He took to him like a bee to honey.
“Bill! How are you my friend?”
“G-g-good Za-a-ach. Goo-ood, b-but c-c-cold!” About that he was right. I stood in the half-open doorway of my ciggy shop and rubbed my hands up and down my arms, tryin’ to stop my old teeth from their incessant chatterin’. I s’ppose I coulda gone on in and lit a brown bat…that woulda warmed me faster than a shot of Hiram Walker Blackberry brandy woulda… but I didn’t want to miss out on the conversation across the way, so I toughed out the cold. Lookin’ closer, I could see that Zach was worried. By now he was facin’ his stutterin’ friend full on, but he was constantly watchin’ behind him. He was lookin’ for someone; probably makin’ sure that Alazar wasn’t goin’ to jump out of the door and pummel him with a rollin’ pin, the bastard.
“Bill, you shouldn’t be out here. You know if Alazar sees you he’ll chase you with the stick again. You don’t want to get hit with that old stick now, do you?” Zach was rubbin’ Bill’s arms fast to warm him, the same thin’ I was doin’ right there in that very doorway. Bill got a terrified look on his face that was sad, but you know it was kind of funny too. It was like the man had some kind of lit up innocence about him that made his face like a small kid’s face.
“Oh n-no! N-n-ot the st-st-stick!” The stutterin’ dummy looked over at the doorway to the bakery in a truly terrified gesture and started to turn and run back to the alley he’d come out of. Now I think…if I’m not mistaken…it was that very moment when I started to like ole’ Bill. Yeah he stuttered, and he might’ve even been a bit ventilated upstairs, but he was honest that man. He was honest and what he showed outside was what he really had on the inside. I can’t tell you how hard it was some days for me to sell a fine, expensive honey sweet Cuban stogie to a fake person who only wanted it to impress his stuck up Izod golfin’ pals. Those sort of phony people, well they live a sham of a life, but not Stutterin’ Bill. No, Bill was another creature all together he was. He was legit. Anyway, Zach stuck by him, and it was probably for that reason. That and the fact that ole’ Zach was just a down-to-earth good-hearted man.
“Wait! Bill wait!” He reached out and gently but firmly stopped Bill. “Listen, I won’t let anythin’ happen to you. But I have a lot to do before we close up, so I need you to go on back to your place and wait for me. Wrap up in that blue blanket I gave you, ok?” Zach looked up worriedly toward the cold and blustery Chicago winter sky. He musta known that it was gonna be one of the worst nights in the month. Those darn weather nerds predicted that it was gonna get down to twenty below, what with the wind comin’ off the lake and all, and boy were they right on the mark with that one! But I’m gettin’ away from my story here isn’t that so?
Zach looked back over his shoulder toward the bakery door. That bastard Alazar was screamin’ inside, but he was so loud that he could be heard outdoors without much effort on my part, so I know Zach’d heard him too.
“Where are you boy? How long does it take to sweep fifteen feet of concrete for the love of God!?” He spoke in some sort of foreign accent or somethin’ and I always thought of Ali-Baba in that kids cartoon movie when I heard him. He wasn’t nearly as friendly as the cartoon character though. A shadow swept across the sidewalk through the plate-glass window, and I thought that very minute that Zach was gonna get caught harborin’ ole’ stutterin’ Bill. Zach musta thought it too, b’cause he proceeded to bustle the man toward the dark alleyway.
“I’ll be out in a minute or two, Bill. Now you get out of here before Alazar catches you, ok? Hurry!”
“W-w-we-ell, o-ok then…b-but…”
“Go on now, hurry and get ready, because when I come I’m bringin’ you cinnamon buns and cider! Hot apple cider!” That’s ’zactly what he said to ole’ Bill and boy did that make the ole’ boy jump up and down in excitement!
“Oohhh! A-apple c-c-cider w-w-with…”
“No whiskey, though! No whiskey Bill!” That boy Zach had a mischievous grin on his face and rosy cheeks from bein’ out in that icy wind, and he scooted the dummy back around the corner just as that old baker came stormin’ out of the glass door. I know he shrieked some right ugly thin’s at the boy baker apprentice but I can’t rightly remember what he said. Not that it’s too important or anythin’ because I remember bein’ more interested in watchin’ Bill disappear around the darkened corner and wonderin’ if he would be alright. I am a boorish ole’ man sometimes and rarely show interest in thin’s that don’t concern me. I mind my business if you know what I mean, and I stay safe and healthy because of it. But that Christmas Eve night I remember gettin’ a feelin’ in the pit o’ my gut and knowin’ that everythin’ was not as it should be. So I did somethin’ that I hardly ever do. I closed my ciggy shop up early. I did it slowly of course, in the event that any of those last minute suicide shoppers wanted a tobaccy-wrap for a gift, but eventually I found myself at a place where I had pulled the blinds and flipped the “closed” sign around. I put the ole’ ear muffs on and hankered down into my parka, because that winter air was deathly…it was whirlin’ around searchin’ out a kill I think.
I bolted the door to my shoppe and turned to face the traffic. There were still many people crowdin’ the sidewalks at nearly eight-thirty at night. The stores that lined Michigan Avenue stayed open late into the evenin’, hostin’ the compulsive, materialistic people that seemed to thrive off our wares. I waited for the traffic to lull again, and I darted real fast like between a taxi and a beat-up crotch-rocket. The stupid kids ridin’ that fake motor cycle weren’t even wearin’ helmets and I wondered how long they would last if they hit a patch of ice. And what did those punks know about a good bike anyhow? Why they wouldn’t know how to handle the power of a real bike like a vintage Enduro or a ’69 Shovelhead. Oh! You know about them bikes do you sir? Yep I am a regular Harley buff I am.
Still, my thoughts regardin’ them teenagers were brief, because I wanted to know where Bill went. When I reached the other side of Michigan Avenue I was made even more aware of the worldly, selfish nature of the shoppers. They were steppin’ all over each other and I had to side-step a few people just to make sure I wasn’t accidentally pummeled by a blindly flailin’ pile of brightly colored Christmas packages. I swear to you that some people were walkin’ with piles of parcels so high they couldn’ even see! They were leavin’ their kids to trail cold and miserable behind them. Yessir, that night was beginnin’ to chill me deeper than the cold could friend, let me tell you! If you don’t mind, I sure would like to pack my pipe with a bit of this here black cherry tobaccy. The smoke won’t bother you will it? Fine then, gimme a moment…there now that’s more like it. Nothin’ like a packed pipe on a cold winter night, eh? The smell? Oh Yessir…one of the best smells on the block! What? You’d like a half pound of it? Well I’ll fix you right up sir, and go on with my story while I’m at it!
Now then, I was only five or ten feet away from the bakery door, and the aroma of sweet cinnamon rolls and cheesy breads was overwhelmin’. It made my grumpy stomach jump and lurch in hunger it did, and I decided then that I would venture on in to the bastard’s bakery and have a bit of bread and a hot, spiced cider to warm my gullet. But just as I was gettin’ ready to reach for the door, it swung open and out sprang Zachary. He didn’t see me of course, for there were far too many other pedestrians that he had to dodge in an effort to not drop his armful of items that he lugged with’m. He had what appeared to be an old-fashioned cider jug with a right giant cork plug in the top. I hadn’t seen one of them in forty years or so, when I was just a lad myself! Along side the cider Zach carried a sizely carton of what I immediately discerned to be cinnamon buns, but for the sweet steam waftin’ from the box. He also had a huge ole’ brown blanket that he was takin’ to Bill, at least I presumed. He ran into the alleyway, so bein’ the nosy ole’ man that I am, I followed close behind, bein’ very careful not to be discovered.
Zach was in a hurry. My guess is that he wasn’t quite done slavin’ for Alazar and had to get back before he was noticed missin’. I ducked behind a rusty, stinkin’ dumpster and listened as I watched the baker’s apprentice slow in the alley ahead of me and call out.
“Bill?”
No answer. Where was the stutterin’ fool? Had he given up on his friend?
“Bill? Where are you?” Again Zach called out his name, and once again, the alley waif did not answer. Zach was steppin’ further into the dark, mysterious lane and before I could believe what I was seein’, stutterin’ Bill jumped out. It was comical really, because he intended to scare the boy, but stuttered his exclamation and so it didn’t work out quite like I imagine he wanted it to. The effect was less than frightenin’, however Zach took it upon himself that night to feed the childish ego of his friend Bill, and jumped backward, feignin’ fear.
“B-b-boo-oo!”
“Oh! Bill! You frightened me!”
“Ha-ha! B-b-ill sc-scar-ared you Z-zach! B-bill sca-ared y-you, r-r-righ-ight?”
Bill was doubled over laughin’, makin’ it all the harder for me to understand what he was sayin’ to the boy, but it was funny all the same, and it was that child in the dummy that made me love him even more. I was touched in a way that my cigar-sellin’ self had naught ever been touched before and was nearin’ a point of walkin’ out into the open and introducin’ myself when Zach said somethin’ that made me stop in my tracks.
“Yes, you scared me Bill. I have to get back though, and then when I am done, I will join the two of you. Where’s Sara?”
Sara?
I had never heard this name before, and I was very certain that I had never seen the dummy with a woman. Did he have a wife? I thought that perhaps I should move on out of the alleyway, lest I frighten the poor woman.
“S-s-sar-ah…?” Bill called the name in a playful, hide-and-seek sort of way. Then Zach called the name too.
“Saraaahhh.” He almost sang it he did, and then out of the blue, the most remarkable thin’ happened.
“Boo!” That voice I heard that night…it was like God himself was whisperin’ in my ole’ ears. Was it an angel I heard? Directly followin’ the voice came the tiniest spectacle of sainthood I ever did have the privilege of layin’ my eyes on. She was the smallest little child with the whitest blonde hair, and even in the shadowy alley I could see the glow of her bright blue eyes as they twinkled like Santa’s himself. Her cherub cheeks were chubby and healthy and silky smooth, and I swear that she couldn’a been more than four. Zach and Bill jumped up in a fake sort of surprise they did, and Sara ran into Zach’s arms laughin’ the sweetest little laugh. It reminded me of fairies or pixies or somethin’. I was so shocked at this new development that I could feel the tears brimmin’ up in my old, tired eyes.
“Well hello there Sarah! Are you hungry? Would you like a treat for dinner tonight?” He planted a large kiss on the tiny cherub’s cheek and then in one smooth motion, he planted her whole body amidst the warmth and insulation of the blanket that he had brought them. I saw then somethin’ that broke my heart. She was actually sittin’ there in that freezin’, dank and murky alleyway, in a pile of cardboard and blankets, arranged for them to sleep in! Stutterin’ Bill and this child lived in that alley, and as sure as I am tellin’ you this story right this second, I know they would have frozen that night if the miracle hadn’a happened.
“I’ll be back Bill,” Zach said, “and then I will join you in a game of cribbage and a swig of that spiced cider, ok?”
“O-o-k B-b-bi-ill…I-I w-w-ill wait f-for y-you.”
And there was that innocent smile once more. That smile that to this day plagues my dreams, and then Zach went back to the bakery. I watched for a while as the cherub child and her caretaker stuffed themselves with cinnamon buns that dripped with melted icin’ and cinnamon. Every once in a while they would fill their mouths with so much cinnamon bun that a gulp of hot cider was needed to wash the food down. I was sad that night watchin’ the tiny little angel takin’ so very much pleasure in somethin’ that the shoppin’ robots on the sidewalk would have sneered at. It was sad to see such innocence wastin’ away in a life that would never reward them…this I knew and as I watched them, the brimmin’ tears finally spilled over, stainin’ my weather-roughened face. How could this happen on Christmas Eve? Where was the tree trimmed in ribbon and glass balls? Where were the strin’s of popcorn and the cookies and milk left for Santa? I tell you, I never cried so hard in all my life and as I sit here on this old chair and tell you this story, I feel I am goin’ to break down again.
Oh…here is your black cherry tobaccy sir. How much? Well, I tell you, it would right please me if you’d take this as a Christmas gift. I don’t get many visitors sittin’ in here with me durin’ the holidays you know. Please. You will? Well thanks much for that, really.
Anyhow, I stood in that alley cryin’ about that little girl and the dummy that was takin’ care of her…and then somethin’ happened that made me stop breathin’. Today I still hate this old ignorant self for I didn’t even move when that chunk of cinnamon bun got stuck in her little throat…I just stood there frozen…like I didn’t believe what I was seein’.
She had been wolfin’ down those buns; she was hungry after all…and she didn’t chew it enough, and dammit-all if she didn’t start to choke! She wheezed and gasped and in the dark I was sure her little cheeks were turnin’ blue. Bill called her name again, but this time in a panic rather than in play.
“S-sa-arah!” He shook her, and in his fear, he said her name without so much as a break in the syllable, I swear. “Sarah!”
She was chokin’, and finally, I started to move, but I was too late. He scooped her up in his arms and ran out onto the busy street lookin’ for help of any kind that he could get. That poor dumb man was lookin’ for a good human bein’ to help him save her life. Finally, I moved. I tried like the dickens I did, to get to them, but somehow in the late hour, the sidewalks had thickened with even more shoppers and become slicker with ice then I ever recall them bein’ before. I was knocked to the ground and I sprained my ankle harsh that night. To this day it still gets swollen on nights like tonight when the bitter cold creeps under the doorway. I crawled through the stompin’ and runnin’ and steppin’ feet, lookin’ for Bill and the chokin’ cherub. Those cheery holiday shoppers got down right ugly with me that night, kickin’ me and steppin’ all over me and cursin’ me for bein’ in their way. I fought against that ugly mob of a crowd for what seemed like forever, like a drownin’ swimmer out off the pier there…fightin’ against the current without a hope for survival. I stopped strugglin’ though when I saw them. They were what seemed to me to be a mile away, where he was puttin’ her limp, blue body down on the sidewalk and screamin’ at people for help.
“H-help!” he said. No one answered. They looked through him as if he wasn’t even there.
“P-p-plea-ease! He-elp h-h-er!” He pointed toward her fragile little body but once more, no one would take notice. I scrambled through the feet of the crowd, workin’ my way toward the child. I would save her, I would! Bill jumped right in front of a nag of a woman who was wrapped in some sort of exotic fur or somethin’ and screamed again.
“HELP!” The woman cringed as if a sewer rat was nippin’ at her poached egg and then began to scream bloody murder.
“Get away from me! Help! Murder! Robber! Get away from me you filthy animal! Someone please help me!” With every syllable that the old crank screamed, she beat at stutterin’ Bill with her purse and on the very last assault, she knocked him off balance and ole’ Bill fell onto Michigan Avenue. He turned to catch his balance just as a very large Mack truck slammed into him face first, knockin’ him thirty feet toward the heavens. I watched as it knocked the life out of Bill in that instant and I heard his body crunch as it was shattered. People screamed and some even turned their heads and stopped for a moment before they went on with their late-night shoppin’. A few others surrounded the battered and broken body of Bill and lookin’ down at him, they clucked and tsk’d.
“There’s another bum off the street.” said one.
“Yep…one less we have to pay taxes on.” said another.
And then I remembered the cherub. She was layin’ sprawled on the walkway directly in front of Alazar’s Bakery and I stretched my hand out toward her just as the door swung open and that fat bastard Alazar came out. He saw me first he did, and took his broom to my head. He must’ve thought I was some sort of vagrant or somethin’ because he kept on beatin’ me with that ole’ broom of his and screamin’ at me with his stupid ole’ ali-baba accent.
“Get out of here you rat! Get away from my store before I have your stinking ass arrested and the key thrown away!” He kept on hittin’ me though, so I cried out for him to stop.
“Alazar! Alazar it’s me! From across the way! You come into my store sometimes you do! Alazar stop swingin’ that damn broom at me!” But he never even slowed…like he didn’t hear me or somethin’, and each syllable was followed by another merciless blow to my ole’ tired head and I saw a might bit of blood spatter on the sidewalk with that last swin’ of the broom. It was chaos on the Michigan Avenue sidewalk that night. Well ole' Alazar looked down at me with a smug ole’ grin on his fat bastard cheeks and then of all thin’s, he spit! That bastard didn’t even look at the poor dyin’ cherub because he had no interest in doin’ anythin’ but spittin’ on someone he thought was less than him! That’s what I mean you know…that what I mean when I say the same ole’ thin’ happens every year. People pushin’ other people like they’re nothin’ but a speck of dirt on the ground…not a human bein’!
Then, like magic or somethin' Zach appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the crowd and lifted her little chokin' body up above the chaos those people were causin'. It looked to me like he was crushin' her tiny little fragile frame in his arms over and over again and I thought he was goin' to kill her for sure until I saw the sticky chunk of cinnamon bun fly out of her mouth like a projectile or somethin'. It just popped out and landed on the walk right in front of my face, and sure as I am sittin' here yackin' at ya today, her blue skin started to turn like an ivory china doll almost immediately. With still a dozen or so pairs of feet walkin’ around, my heart soared when I finally heard the angelic sound of young Sara cryin’. She was goin’ to live, which was more than I could say for the poor bastard lyin’ in the street. The distant sound of sirens warbled down the way and grew louder as they got closer. Now listen here folks…here is the crux of the story. I watched Zach kneel down next to Bill, shieldin’ Sara’s face from the scene, and at the same time a light brighter than the sun burst from the stiffenin’ body of the dead man. Either no one else noticed the light or they simply chose to ignore it, but whatever the case, it was as if I was the only one who saw first the light, and then the unbroken, Adonis figure of Bill arisin’ from the body. He was nothin’ like the dummy Bill I’d come to know; he was, well…he was perfect. He lifted and then hovered above his dead host of a body and I knew that I was seein’ a real live angel that night. I stared in utter amazement as people walked around me, some kickin’ me on accident, oblivious of my presence. I watched as the muscular, blonde-headed, angelic replica of stutterin’ Bill emerged and floated oh so gently into the cold night air, and my face must’ve been comical to see for I was in shock and spewin’ tears. I was cryin’ uncontrollably that night. I turned my head to the sound of the bastard Alazar screamin’ at Zach, but saw that the boy ignored him and began to walk down the busy sidewalk.
“Come on Sara, let’s go home.” Zachary cuddled her inside of his heavy coat and she lifted her head that moment and looked above her where Bill’s angelic form flew closely behind.
“Bill! There’s Bill”
Zach never turned, and I believe that he never got to see the Bill that I saw that cold December night as the threesome disappeared down the sidewalk. The ambulance guys, well they loaded him up in a body bag, but that wasn’t Bill anymore. Bill was gone…he was followin’ Sara home and would forever be her Christmas angel. I never saw Zach or Sara again after that, but them are two faces I won’t soon be forgettin’ that is certain.
Well there you have it. That there is my story. I’m tired now. My pipe has burnt out and I have to close up my ciggy shop. But I want you to take one thin’ from this here story. The cold winters in Chicago and the robotic, materialistic nature of our kind…you know what I mean…humankind…well it can’t stop angels from flyin’ into yer life. Remember that if you ever get the chance to help someone…that’s when you’ll see the angels. Trust me on this. Miracles come once in a life time and this ole’ man sittin’ here yackin’ at ya, well this ole’ man saw a truly magnificent miracle that night in ’96. I saw a man become an angel.
Christmas - only days away; plastic snowmen and glowing reindeer adorn the lawns of neighborhoods all across America. All is calm, all is bright, and yet there is something tragically wrong about this Christmas night.
With swift passage thr
