Free The Paper Bag Christmas by Kevin Alan Milne Page B

guess that makes each of us special, now, don’t it? Two elves and the happiest patient I ever met—three special guys, without a doubt.”
    The janitor, who’s name was Frank, told us he was working extra hours at the hospital to help pay the medical bills for his younger brother, who had been treated for cancer several months earlier. His brother was doing well now, but the bills were too much for his parents to cover on their own. So he had taken it upon himself to work at the hospital in his spare time, and all of his wages were given back to the hospital. It was while working there that he came to know Dr. Ringle and was given the opportunity to help out at the mall as an elf.
    “Now tell me again,” he said after he’d told us all about himself. “What’re yous two doin’ here outside Dr. Ringle’s office? And this time I want it straight, none o’ this friggin’ nonsense about nothin’ goin’ on.”
    I looked at Tim before answering, and he nodded slightly, encouraging me to let Frank in on our clandestine activities.
    “The truth is, we’re looking for clues. We want to find out if Dr. Ringle is the one and only Santa Claus. Tim thinks he is, but I’m not even sure I believe in Santa Claus anymore.”
    “Well,” said Frank knowingly. “I hate to admit it Mo, but Tim’s right. Yup, I seen lots o’ Saint Nick’s in my day, but ain’t none of them the real deal exceptin’ for old Doc Ringle. And that’s the truth. If you’s guys want, I’ll let you in his office. Maybe there’ll be somethin’ there what proves who he is. How ’bout it?”
    We gladly accepted the janitor’s offer and were soon fumbling around through Dr. Ringle’s stuff. Even though Frank had said so, I still wasn’t entirely convinced that Dr. Ringle was Santa Claus. The thought crossed my mind that he might have just said those things to make Tim feel good on account of his having cancer.
    “Look at this,” cried Tim after a few minutes of searching.
    Tim was holding up a brown paper bag.
    “What’s that, little man?”
    “It says ‘Reindeer Poop’!”
    Tim opened up the bag and pulled out a handful of small brown pellets.
    “Ooh,” he moaned. “They’re kinda squishy.”
    “What’d ya say, Mo? You wanted proof. Is that proof or what?” asked Frank with a grin.
    “Deer poop! That’s incredible,” I said, trying hard to believe this might point to the existence of an actual Santa Claus.
    Whatever the outcome of our investigation, I was unabashedly impressed with the poop. I’d never seen real deer poop before, and I could only think of one person in the world who would leave a bag of it lying around his office: Santa Claus.
    “Good,” he said. “Now yous two need to run along so I can get back to work.” He ruffled our hair again and herded us out the door. Tim carried the bag of poop along as evidence.
    “Merry friggin’ Christmas,” Frank called jovially as we skipped off toward the elevators.
    “Merry friggin’ Christmas, Frank!” Tim yelled back as the elevator door opened.
    “Yeah, thanks Frank,” I added. “Merry Christmas!”
    B ACK ON THE FIFTH FLOOR we exited the elevator and walked briskly toward Tim’s room where we hoped to further examine the reindeer droppings. On the way we passed by the nurses’ station again. Nurse Doyle was no longer there, but Nurse Crowton was back from pageant rehearsal and she looked eager to see us.
    “Hi guys,” she said as we approached. “Hold up, Mo, I’ve got something for you.”
    “For me?”
    “Yes, for you and your elder elf brother,” she quipped with a halfhearted smile.
    “Oh,” I replied. “Can it wait? We’re sort of in a hurry?”
    “Really?” she asked. “Just what have you two been up to while the rest of us have been at the Christmas pageant rehearsal?”
    “Umm, well, we’ve sort of been . . .”
    “We’ve been trying to prove that Dr. Ringle is Santa Claus!” shouted Tim, unable to hide his enthusiasm. “And