Desperate Student, Episode 2: Santa Claus

Christmas is coming, and Christmas means giving presents to friends. This wasn't a problem for me until recently; I didn't have any friends. But now I have a girlfriend, and girlfriends cost money, and I don't have any.

As you've probably already gathered, the collapse of Dirty Derek's Gourmet left me in a very desperate position. My girlfriend called me that evening and asked if I was ready to take her out yet. I told her I was busy all week. We chatted a bit about the news - apparently the police were out looking for a sadistic restaurant saboteur - and then said goodbye. I ran around the room screaming and broke something that did not belong to me. Feeling better, I went to Monster.Com and clicked on the familiar "Jobs for People who Can't Fog Mirrors," button. The latest job:

"WANTED: Man who can wear Santa Claus outfit outside Wal-Mart and ring hand bell."

Beneath the ad were a couple paragraphs of fine print that said something about paid volunteers under a non-profit charitable status and how the whole thing was taken care of by Nancy Pelosi. I felt warm inside.

This was my ticket. I called the salvation army immediately and spent the last of my money on a Santa Claus costume. The next day early, I made my way to Wal-Mart, set up the little basket, and started ringing the bell.

I felt like a complete idiot. I tried to avoid eye contact with shoppers, embarrassed silly. Time cures most ills, however. Within the hour, I was feeling much more confident. I started singing carols, and making ho-ho-ho noises, and wondering aloud if it was going to snow. Just before lunch, the manager came out and told me to settle down because I was annoying the customers. I rang the bell in his face a couple of times. He started blinking hard and fell backwards into the street. A passing bus finished the job.

The police showed up and roped off the area. Then they drew chalk designs on the road and gathered pieces of litter and put them in zip-lock bags. I stood right outside the perimeter, ringing the darn bell for all I was worth.

After an hour of this, I returned to harassing the customers.

"How do you, ma'am? Merry Christmas, everyone! How about a new train for Christmas, little boy? No? Doom 3? All right then! Ho-ho-ho!" On the third ho, I found myself standing face to face with my girlfriend, Suzy. I dropped the bell in shame, mouth gaping. She walked right by me as if I didn't exist.

"Suzy, wait ..." I said. She turned and looked back at the store, then shrugged and went on her way. I then realized what had happened. My fake beard had saved me! The itches were justified. I quit scratching and enjoyed the irritation for the rest of the afternoon.

Eventually, the police started to pack up. About that time, the assistant manager came out and started yelling in my face. It was something about not blocking the entrance. Naturally, I bonked him on the head with my bell. He fell into an empty shopping cart, which raced down the parking lot and out of sight. The police chased him, yelling into their radios.

A few minutes later, a chopper showed up and heavily armed soldiers dressed all in black came down ropes in front of the store. The vice-assistant manager came out to complain about the ruckus.

"Hey, guys, come on," He pleaded. "Can't you leave us alone?"

"We're looking for a murderer with a weapon shaped like a hand bell," said the SWAT captain. My heart hit the brakes. I heard the vice-assistant manager and the SWAT guys going back and forth, but I no longer understood what was said. As quietly as possible, I slipped behind a dumpster, tore off my costume, punched out the bottom of a trash can, slipped inside, and ran for it, taking the costume with me. After all, I'd spent my life savings on that outfit.