Ride With Santa by John C. Colyer It was December one year ago,late Christmas eve the night was bitter cold. In the midst of a blizzard with a blinding snow, I was stranded on a dark lonely road. I was nearly froze to death that cold winter night, when suddenly I saw a much welcomed sight, coming from the darkness, gleaming bright, cutting through the snow was set of fog lights. I anxiuosly waited as the lights drew near and the humming of an engine was like music to my ears. I waited and watched till the lights shined clear, and from that haze of heavy snow a pick up truck appeared. It was a cherry red F-One Fifty, four wheel drive, it had SANTA CLAUS painted on the side. Those big white letters were streaked with blood from the carcass of a reindeer strapped across the hood. The dude behind the wheel looked kind of weird, with a red velvet suit and a long white beard, but he opened the door and said, �Boy climb on in here,� then he fired up a doobie and popped the top on a beer. I felt just a little uneasy as I climbed in that truck and spied a rifle rack made from antlers off a reindeer buck. The cab was filled with the oder of refer and beer, and there sit two other little fellows with long pointed ears. It was eerie and smelly, but warm inside. I tried holding my breath as I said thanks for the ride. I closed the door and settled down, as the ol' dude took another toke and passed that doobie around. He looked at me all glassy eyed and spoke sort of lazy like his brain was fried. He said, �My name's Santa, these are my elves, I'm sort of in a hurry son, so brace yourself.� He took a hit off the doobie and chugged down a beer, revved up the engine, put the tranny in gear. He popped the clutch and chuckled, Oh! Oh! Oh! and that F-One Fifty split the blinding snow. They seemed to be a jolly crew full of Christms cheer, but I kept starring at those rifles and that dead reindeer. The ol' dude was happy, but still a bit weird, and I was a bit leary of those two little fellows with the long pointed ears. The ol' dude was smoking and drinking, he was high as a kite, and driving like a maniac through a blizzard that night. I was worried and scared and hugging the door, thinking this old fool is gonna kill me for sure. He had Elvis on the radio blasting out loud and the smoke in that truck was like a heavy gray cloud. I was starting to wonder how I ended up here, with some crazy fat dude and two little fellows with long pointed ears. Well,I never felt the buzz coming on and before I knew it I was flat out stoned. We were bouncing off roof tops and soaring through the sky, and I know damn well a pick up truck can't fly. These dudes were partying hearty while spreading Christmas cheer, I was plain paranoid and trembling with fear. See, all I wanted was some place warm, not a party with Santa in an air borne Ford. At last he come to a stop just before daylight, and he passed me a beer as he bid me good-night. Terrified and trembling I muttered, thanks for the ride, then I opened the door and hauled my ass outside. I started kissing the ground, I was glad to be alive. He was laying down rubber peeling out of my drive. As into the darkness those taillights disappeared,he yelled, � Merry fucking Christmas and Happy New Year!�
