Text 233, 121 rader
Skriven 2004-09-27 22:22:48 av Greg Sears (1:153/307)
     Kommentar till en text av George Pope
Ärende: Re: Bye bye. . . . . . .
================================
Funny

 -=[26-Sep-2004 06:39, George Pope replied IN a message to GREG SEARS]=-

 GS> No worries dear, I'm BACK! George Pope put ME right with an internet
 GS> connection & software on Milkyway! Still getting it configed. ;-)

 GP> There was a temporary glitch with the offline mail -- should be okay
 GP> now, I believe (as you can see from my origin, I'm hailing from the
 GP> Milky Way!)

  G-day George Pope,

        Tell Me does that mean My origin is from BC also? ;-)

> OBJoke: for our Moderator and all-round friend/servant

  The hostess (with a daughter of marriageable age - of long duration)
sent out an invitation to an officer (who was supposed to be the
prospective suitor of her daughter's hand).

  "Mr. and Mrs. Dabney request the pleasure of Captain Black's company at
dinner on the 16th of September."

  She was somewhat dismayed to receive the enthusiastic reply:

  "With the exception of four men on leave, and two sick, Captain Black's
company accept with much pleasure your invitation to dinner on the 16th
of September."


> OBJoke: for Mr. <+]::-{(} ("Cyberpope")

Happy mid-Xmas but there is no Santa Claus!!!

I remember my first Christmas party with Grandma. I was just a kid. I
remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big
sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even
dummies know that."

My grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told
the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier
when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her
everything. She was ready for me.

"No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor
has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put
on your coat, and let's go"

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second
cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town
that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its
doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

"Take this money and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait
for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother but
never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and
crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.

For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar
bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of
everybody I knew, my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at
school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out,
when I suddenly thought of Bobbie Decker. He was a kid with bad breath
and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two
class.

Bobbie Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out
for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the
teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobbie Decker
didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar
bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobbie Decker a coat. I settled
on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he
would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter
asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes," I replied shyly. "It's--for Bobbie."

The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat
in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and
ribbons, and wrote, "To Bobbie, From Santa Claus" on it -- Grandma said
that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobbie
Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever
officially one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobbie's house, and she and I crept
noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me
a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down
on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the
bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for
the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood
Bobbie.

Forty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering,
beside my grandma, in Bobbie Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that
those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they
were ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.


Cheers from,
  ICE-man      /\ Christchurch+          \ | /  Mountains, Sunshine
 Canterbury   /  \/\          |  /\     -- 0 --  Forestry, Farming
New  Zealand~/      \!!ii,,,,_*_/==\--~~~~~~~~~ First to USE 2004!!

... George, better find your aim in life before you run out of ammunition!

--- EzyBlueWave V2.01b005 00F90260
 * Origin: Milky Way, Langley, BC [604] 532-4367 (1:153/307)