Free The Impossible Quest Of Hailing A Taxi On Christmas Eve by George Saoulidis Page B

blowing his party horn and turning the Christmas lights on
again.
    Scrooge
turned them off. "Bah! It's just a marketing ploy."
    Santa
turned them on. "Will you come to our Christmas dinner
tomorrow?"
    Scrooge
turned them off. "No. I have work to do at home. Clara won't be
coming to work tomorrow, I have to keep up the pace."
    Santa
turned them on. "You can't possibly work on Christmas Day! Come to
us for dinner. There'll be turkey! And sweets! And chocolate. We'll
have a merry old time..."
    Scrooge
turned them off. "A waste, overpriced dinners when you can't afford
them. Don't be coming to me for loans in a few weeks."
    He was
referring of course, to actual loans. He'd never lent out money
just like that, not even to family, whatever little of both he had
left. They were actual personal loans, signed in triplicate,
incurring interest at "market average" rates.
    Santa
sighed and gave up. "Fine. I know you've seen my invitation days
ago. I know the message I left to Clara was passed to you. This is
just some excuse, I don't know why you don't want to spend the
holiday with family. Anyway, the offer stands. Our door is always
open for you," he said, blew out the party horn one last time,
though it was something sad this time, and left.
     
     
    Scrooge
shut the door and sat back down to his uncomfortable office chair.
He pressed a button on his computer and waited for the server to
respond. It took more than two minutes for it to spit out an
"error: unreachable" message.
    It was
fine. He could wait. The hosting service he used was the cheapest
one there is, and that meant it was poorly maintained and came with
customer support that didn't really care.
    He
picked up the tea, that was scalding hot when Clara brought it but
now was barely warmer than the freezing room, and sipped, while
staring outside into the dark Christmas Athens. It was still
afternoon but it was already pitch going for black.
     
     
    Someone
knocked on the door and he stood up, protesting loudly all the way.
"What now? I told you I won't come to the damn dinner," he mumbled
and opened the door.
    He
looked down and saw three little children, fluffed out with big
coloured coats and knit caps and gloves. The girl was Romani, the
boy was Greek and the second boy was Nigerian.
    They
cheered in unison, "Na ta poume?" which was the protocol of
Christmas Carol initiation. They didn't really have the patience to
wait for a proper reply so they began jingling away their little
triangles and singing.
    It was
so merry and sweet.
    Scrooge
yelled at them and shushed them. "Stop this racket! Stop at once.
Who told you to start with this cacophony?"
    They
extended their little gloved hands and waited for their treat.
Their paycard was in hand, a simple tap from another would confirm
a small-amount transaction instantly.
    "I'm not
giving you anything, you little extortionists! Coming here
uninvited, mangling out a couple of verses and then demanding
payment. No. And you, aren't you a Muslim?" he said and pointed at
the little Roma girl.
    "We like
Christmas, it's a time for family and happiness," she replied with
her sweet little voice. "That's what mommy says," she
added.
    Scrooge
squinted. "Do you know how insane that is? Celebrating the birth of
Christ from another religion? Tell your mother that I won't be
fooled by those pigtails and those big round eyes. A fine scam, if
you ask me. Getting money every year without a receipt," he
nodded.
    The
children looked at one another, but since they were stuffed like
turkeys they had to turn their whole bodies to exchange glances.
They kept their hands up, paycards in hand, but a little lower
now.
    "And
you," Scrooge said, pointing at the Nigerian boy. "What are
you?"
    The
little black boy shrugged. "I'm Greek mister."
    "So you
are Orthodox Christian?"
    "Yes
sir. My name is Nico, from the Saint Nicholas," the boy replied,
the words repeated by heart. He gifted the bitter man a shiny-white
smile that could melt your heart and fill you