Below is an excerpt from DU student Theland E. Thomas’ book, “Grandpa Alfred’s Christmas Tales,” which is now available on Amazon Kindle. We hope you enjoy.
– DU Clarion Staff
One cold Thanksgiving evening, there was a lowly retail employee—let’s call him Tom. Now, the world was such an evil and crooked place that, instead of spending Thanksgiving with his girlfriend, Tom was forced to go to work and serve the hordes of greedy customers lined up outside of his store. She said it was okay, that she could just go to a friend’s, but Tom knew that she was really disappointed. Black Thursday night began at 5, and people were excited. Countless customers were lined up all the way down the block. Many had even set up tents in the parking lot—all to get the best deal on a flat screen TV or a cell phone or some other electronic.
So, understandably, Tom was mad. Just thinking about the fact that he had to be missing quality family time working for these greedy, greedy people was enough to make his teeth grind. But, like many people in his position, he kept quiet and did his job and hoped the paycheck at the end of the week was big enough. Speaking of which, he did not receive time-and-a-half for working on the holiday.
“I’m so pissed I’m here right now,” he said to his friend, Courtney.
Courtney was also pissed, but chronically so. Tom supposed it was from being given a girl’s name. “Yeah,” Courtney said, nearly yelling to project over the absurdly loud Christmas music. “You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna start fights. As soon as the door opens, I’ll just throw a punch here, a kick there. No one’s gonna know it’s me.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Tom replied offhandedly as he stared out the sets of sliding double doors at the crowd of people smashed up against them. They were pounding against the glass, shouting, peering in with angry faces that looked like the masks of ghouls.
All the employees turned around when the boss walked in. “Alright,” he said. “Who’s opening the doors?” No one made eye contact. “Thomas!”
He cursed under his breath as the boss threw the keys to him.
“Take your positions everybody. Doors open in thirty seconds! And no screw-ups. I will fire you!”
Several employees lined up behind him as he approached the doors. Past the wreaths and tinsel and the banner that read Black Thursday Extravaganza, he walked, each step filled with dread and loathing. The banging and screaming intensified as he approached the door, so much so that Tom couldn’t even hear the music. He gulped, took a deep breath, and pushed the key into the door. BOOM! Tom jumped back, heart pounding. On the other side of the door, at eye level, a crazed man slammed his face against the glass. As he slid toward the ground, he left a smear of spit. This incited a frenzy amongst the crowd who redoubled their assault on the glass doors. The noise. He just wanted it to stop.
“What the hell are you waiting for?” Tom heard the boss holler. “Open the damn doors already!”
With a gulp, Tom turned the key in the latch. Before he could even move to activate the automatic doors, the horde flung them open and stampeded in. Tom spun desperately to flee, but, alas, was knocked to and fro by the savage shoppers until he finally lost his balance and toppled to the ground. Paying no mind, the crowd earnestly stomped on and around him, a minor sacrifice, of course, for the greater prize. All Tom could do was cover his head and pray that something out there would rescue him from this wretched nightmare before Christmas.
After a few minutes, all the clamor had passed. Tom listened around and glanced about and slowly collected himself, taking a moment to inspect his wounds. Both of his hands had been crushed, his swollen lip throbbed, and pain radiated from various bodily wounds.
“It’s the most wonderful season of all!” the singer on the intercom proclaimed gaily.
Tom stumbled to his feet and limped into the mess of moving shopping cart traffic, anger stewing inside his heart. In that instant, blindingly bright lights shone behind him. He shielded his eyes and turned around to face them. The glare was so dazzling he couldn’t rest his eyes upon it, the heat so intense, he broke into an instant sweat. Suddenly, the lights died out, leaving only splotches of orange in his vision. The cool rushed in through the open doors. Squinting, Tom could make out a huge, red work truck. All of the doors swung open in unison, and several Hispanic men unloaded from the inside with several more leaping from the truck bed. A man Tom assumed to be the one in charge strode up to him.
“Hello,” he greeted with a thick Spanish accent as he extended his hand. “My name is Jesús, and we are here to fix your problems.”
Want to read more? Get Grandpa Alfred’s Christmas Tales on Amazon Kindle! This collection of irreverent, hilarious, and horrifying short stories is the perfect way to start off your holiday season, and it’s a refreshing break from the same-old, rehashed holiday tropes.
– Theland E. Thomas
