I was snoozing in my easy chair when the "Ghost of Christmas Past" spirited my spirits away. Actually he snuck into my house, drank all my booze and then wanted me to take him to the liquor store for more.
Stupidly, I agreed.
But, then I remembered it was New years Eve and I wasn't about to drive or walk to a liquor store to get a drunk spirit and more spirits. He said that if I would just go in and buy the booze he would get me there.
"How? I asked.
"Simple," he belched. "We will fly."
So we floated to the liquor store on the fumes of his breath. I did enjoy floating along with the breeze looking into windows until I saw a naked man exercising. I almost fell off his whisky breath. I asked him to fly higher or maybe take the freeway but he grumped something about me not keeping my mind on the business at hand.
"We were going for booze, not window peeping." he said.
"You've had enough booze and if I want to window peep I will," I grumped back.
"I will drink if I please," he snorted.
We floated to a stop in front of the liqueur store, his breath dissipated and I plopped to the cement in a heap.
He chortled, "There you go, smart ass. You don't even know how to dismount from a cloud of alcohol breath. Where would you be if you were riding a storm cloud? I'll tell you where. You would be flipped around like a rag doll and probably thrown all the way to Mt. Ararat and all those stranded animals."
"Mt. Ararat? Stranded animals? You're crazy."
"Again, you're confused," he replied. "Ghosts can't be crazy. Or to put it another way, crazy people are not allowed to become ghosts."
"I suppose you have a ghost control center," I said,
"Sure! Do you think it would be smart to allow just anyone to become a ghost? Think of the havoc it would wreak. I mean consider letting Charles Manson become a ghost. I shudder to think of what harm he might do to our reputation."
"If crazy people can't become ghosts, what happens to them?"
"I don't know, that's not my department. Besides, we came for a bottle of booze so if you would please just hop in there and get me one, I would be grateful."
"Where's your money, I asked?"
"My you are slow," he said. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase, 'you can't take it with you'? So, if I couldn't take it with me maybe you might just figure that I don't have any."
"I'm not paying for your booze," I told him.
"Well if your broke just go in there and steal a bottle. I'm not particular. Any one of them will do."
"I'm not a thief. I think we should just forget the whole thing. You just go back to wherever the hell you came from and I'll take a cab home."
"I need that bottle. After tonight, I won't be able to drink again until next Christmas."
"So you're sort of like Cinderella. When the clock strikes midnight, you disappear. Is that right?"
"That's it old buddy, so if you would hurry on inside and get that bottle I will forever grateful. You might check to see if they have any "Luscious Watermelon Wine."
"I suppose you're partial to old dogs and children too," I smiled.
"Me and Tom T. Hall. Yes maamee, me and Tom. T Hall, 'Old Dogs and Children an Watermelon Wine'. Now hurry on in there and get me bottle before it's to late."
Well now, it became impossible to deny his request. So I went inside and bought a bottle of Watermelon Wine and me and the Spirit of Christmas past drank a toast to Old Dogs and Children and Watermelon Wine.
Happy birthday Mr. Tom T. Hall and may you live to sing for another 77 years.
stan b
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