Marshall Ramsey

A deer story for the opening day of gun season.

On an empty stage in a big room, two podiums stood next to each other. Four rows of chairs were filled with print and TV reporters from around the world.  A man with a red suit and a turkey entered from the right and walked up to their respective podiums. The man in the red suit begins to talk:

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. And members of the press. My name is Kris Kringle, CEO of Claus, Inc. and to my side is Tom Turkey, CEO of Thanksgiving Day, Inc. Thank you for coming out this evening.”

There was a slight gasp in the room. Believing was one thing. Seeing Santa for the first time was another.

“Today Claus, Inc. A division of Christmas Day has bought a controlling interest in and will immediately take over Thanksgiving.”

The room gasped.

Tom Turkey flapped his wings and rose up to the microphone,

“Gobble gobble gobble gobble.”

A translator, who appeared out of the darkness to the left of the stage, translated the turkey’s words, “With this economy, we could no longer afford to make huge profits and keep Thanksgiving as a separate holiday. We are sure the synergy between the two holidays will make for a better and more meaningful November and December.”

Reporters wrote madly.

Santa continued, “I had pretty much eclipsed Thanksgiving anyway. I mean stores are starting their Black Friday sales on Thursday.  Christmas decorations now appear in June. In fact, we are in negotiating taking over Halloween and the Fourth of July.”

Reporters scribbled wildly.  All three cable news networks broke into coverage.

“Gobble gobble gobble gobble.”

The translator looked at the turkey and said, “People around the world need to be thankful everyday, not just one Thursday a year. ”

A reporter asked, “So, Tom, what do you get out of the deal?”

“Gobble, gobble, gobble.”

The translator said, “Santa will have ham for Thanksgiving.”

The parking lot of the Quickie Gas & Groceries was empty that Thursday afternoon. The whole world was gathered around the table, saying thanks and enjoying the company of loved ones and friends. All except Elizabeth J. Clarke. She was working the midday shift on Thanksgiving at this rural convenience store to make a little extra cash for college.

It was the worst Thanksgiving ever.

She stood behind the counter, behind the Five-hour Energy and the Beef Jerky, reading her law book.  If there was a silver lining, it was that she was getting paid to study.  Time and a half never looked quite so good.

Her boredom was interrupted by a beat-up older green Chevrolet Malibu that pulled into the parking lot.  It pulled up to the store and parked.  “OK,” she thought, “They aren’t getting gas. So I’ll be having company.”

Two young men in hooded sweat jackets threw open the doors of their car and got out. One had his hands in his pocket.  She hated to profile, but her heart started racing. Who knows? Maybe they just needed some gum to get rid of their turkey breath. She almost laughed but her heart was racing too fast to let that happen.

The bell on the door rang and she noted their height against the doorframe measurement.  “STOP IT!” she shouted at herself. “QUIT THINKING NEGATIVE.”  One of the men went back toward the drinks and got a six-pack of beer. The other circled around and disappeared from her line of sight. He was the one with his hands in his pockets — she desperately checked the video monitors.  Panic set in.

Suddenly he appeared holding a gun!  Her law book hit the ground as he started screaming a string of obscenities that would make a sailor blush.

“GIVE ME THE @#$@# CASH IN YOUR #$%#$ DRAWER YOU #$%#$ING #$%$#!!!!!’

His eyes were red and his hand holding the gun was shaking almost as violently as she was.  Whatever he was on was making him even meaner than he probably was when he was sober.

She hesitated and that cost her.

“NOW! YOU #$%#$%!!!! I SAID @#$%#$ NOW!!!!!”

She was openly sobbing, pleading for her life. “DON’T KILL ME!”

That made the man holding the gun even angrier.  He thrust the gun against her forehead and screamed, “NOW!!! ”

She felt the cold metal of the gun barrel against her forehead.  When it touched her skin, time slowed down to a crawl. The screaming man’s voice slowed and suddenly she had her life flash before her eyes: Playing with her dad on the floor of the living room. Winning 1st place in her science fair.  Her first kiss. Graduating with honors. So many Thanksgiving dinners with her family…

She saw his bloodshot eyes blink and then his finger slowly squeeze the trigger. So this is how it would end. Right here at the Quickie Gas & Groceries on Thanksgiving Day.

It was the worst Thanksgiving Day ever.

She closed her eyes and prepared to meet God.

click.

The gun jammed.

The angry man holding it became even angrier and screamed even louder as he ran out the door to the waiting car.  The two would-be robbers and murders scratched out of the parking lot and onto the rural Mississippi highway with only a six-pack of beer.

What had seemed like hours had only lasted a minute.  She fell to her knees sobbing, appreciative of the life that she still had. Of the experiences she would still get to experience. Of the family she would get to go home and love tonight.

Lying on the floor of the Quickie Gas & Groceries,  Elizabeth J. Clarke cherished the second chance at life she had been given by the jammed gun and thought the only thought she could:

It was the best Thanksgiving ever.