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Nick by Barry Arnold The bitter cold woke Jim up early. Even sleeping near the subway grate didn’t really help. He gathered his few meager belongings together, and walked toward Fifth Avenue, hoping to scrounge up something to eat. The city was unusually quiet with nobody on the streets. His only company in the early dawn light were the Christmas decorations sparkling in the closed shop windows. "Not much of a Christmas for me," thought Jim, as he blew on his hands to keep them warm. For a moment he remembered the tool kit his dad had given him so many years before, wrapped with a big green bow under the family’s tinsel covered Christmas tree. Christmas was wonderful then, full of possibilities. When he was a child, he could hardly sleep on Christmas Eve, dreaming of Santa Claus flying through the night sky in a sled filled with gifts, pulled by magical reindeer. But that was long ago, and Jim had long since stopped believing in miracles. Walking south, Jim soon found himself in front of Rockefeller Center and its huge Christmas Tree. Chuckling to himself, he made his way toward the tree’s base, "Maybe I’ll find a gift. A little food would be nice." As he came closer, he spotted an old man with a dirty long beard, wearing an ash covered red Santa Claus suit, sitting under the tree, warming himself by a trash can fire. The blazing fire looked inviting, and he moved close to get warm. The old guy nodded to him, "How are you doing young feller?" "Just as bad as you it seems," answered Jim, figuring the poor soul was as down on his luck as he was. "That Santa suit looks pretty warm, where did you get it?" Jim asked just to make conversation. "Well, that’s a long story, I’ve had it for a very long time," said the old man with a kind smile that crinkled his face. Noticing the guy looked well fed under his dirty red coat, Jim shrugged, "Hey, you got any food?" The old man reached around behind him and began rummaging in a big bag that Jim figured held all the bum’s possessions. "How’s this?" he asked, presenting Jim with a wrapped cheese sandwich, held together with a little green bow. Jim took out of his pocket the remains of cigar he had found on the street the night before, and offered it in exchange, "I didn’t have time to wrap it," Jim laughed, taking a bite of the sandwich. "Well thank you young man. It’s the thought that counts," said the old guy, lighting the stub on the fire. Puffing delightedly, he winked at Jim; "Just what I need after a long night’s work." "Oh, you got a job last night. Tough to come by on Christmas Eve. What did you do?" said Jim, munching on the cheese sandwich. "Deliveries mostly," replied the old man with a wry smile. "Hey don’t knock it. It’s work. Wish I could find a job. What’s your name anyway old timer?" "Just call me Nick. What’s yours young feller?" "Jim, Jim Stapleton, and I ain’t so young. Turned thirty last March, and my life’s a mess. No family, no money, no work, and no place to live, not exactly what I hoped for when I was a kid." "Sounds like your due for a change. Tell me Jim, you been a good boy this year?" Jim stiffened; "I’ve been off the stuff for two years, and I don’t get in no trouble with the law. I keep to myself. No bother to anybody. I get by." "So you’re looking for a job?" "I’ve been trying, but I’ve got the world’s worst luck." Scratching his beard, Nick looked over Jim curiously; "If you could have any job you wanted, what would it be?" Jim shook his head, "I don’t know. I like working with my hands. Making things. Putting a fresh coat of paint on. Taking care of animals and kids. Stuff like that. I don’t need much." "Well my young friend, I may just have something for you. You interested in a full time position?" Jim rolled his eyes; "Oh sure, you’re going to give me a job. You look as bad off as I am." Nick dusted off his red coat, raising a cloud of sooty dust. "I suppose I do appear a bit disheveled this morning. It’s been a long night, but I can assure you there’s an opening in my organization for a young man like you. That is if you really want it?" Thinking the old geezer was crazy; Jim reassuringly patted him on the back. "Ok, old man, I’ll bite. I want the job. How much you pay?" Nick let out a big belly laugh. "Ho, Ho, Ho, there’s no pay, just a nice place to live, a few good friends, and three square meals every day. Of course, you have to be willing to work for your keep, and not mind a bit of cold weather." Jim sighed; "Sounds terrific, if the job were only real. I never cared much for money anyway, could use a few friends, and winter’s my favorite time of year." The old man put out his hand, "Then its settled then, you’ll come and work for me. Can you start immediately?" Not wanting to offend the old guy, Nick shook his outstretched hand. "You’ve got a deal, Nick. Ready when you are." "Then come with me now, and the job is yours," said Nick, helping Jim to his feet. "Our transportation’s just behind there," pointing toward the tree. "Give me hand with the bag, will you?" Figuring he had nothing to lose, and glad to have a new friend on Christmas day, Jim lifted the bag, following the old guy as he walked around the tree. He blinked with amazement, when waiting on the other side was a shiny red sleigh, and twelve prancing reindeer, snorting fog from their noses. Nick climbed on board, grabbed the reigns, and motioned for Jim to get into the sleigh. "Just throw the bag in the back, kid." In disbelief, Jim moved into the seat next to Nick, stammering; "Are you really him?" Nick laughed, "Ho, Ho, Ho," snapped a whip, and off they went flying over the city toward the North Pole and Jim’s new job. "Merry Christmas."