Finding Christmas

Finding Christmas

Pascal Pigritchie was in such a state.
He had to go shopping.  The hour was late.
His sweet little Slinkie had took him aback.
Coming to him with a sock and a tack.

"Daddy, Dear Daddy I find we're remiss.
We have such a problem. Dear daddy, it's this.
We do not have Christmas and most people do,
With presents and stockings; lights red, green and blue."

"Darling sweet Slinkie; my pet do not fret.
I'll run out a moment. This Christmas I'll get.
He put on his greatcoat, his boots and top hat,
Grinned big at Slinkie and gave her a pat.

"Stacys, good fellow." He said in the cab;
Not black and yellow, just blue and quite drab.
Then, once in the store he accosted a clerk.
"Young man, bag me Christmas. Here's a ten as a perk."

"You can't package Christmas. You can't even start.
Christmas is joy that grows deep in your heart.
Christmas is love that began long ago
Away in a manger and since then did grow."

Pascal Pigritchie, he ran from the store.
He understood money, and not too much more.
"Over to Mel Mart." he said to the cabbie,
Panting a bit for poor Pascal was flabby.

Once inside Mel Mart he shouted out loud.
"I must purchase Christmas. The best, I'm so proud."
Again flashed his money like it was a charm.
Then Aggie, the greeter took him by the arm.

"You can't purchase Christmas. It isn't a thing
Like pickles or cheese or a ball or a ring.
Christmas is giving, receiving and love
To honor a gift that once came from above.

Sure, we've got ribbons and baubles and bows.
Synthetic trees; we've got truckloads of those.
Flashing bright lights are right down aisle two,
Twinkling, winking, green, red, gold and blue."

Pascal Pigritchie was feeling some pain
From the confusion that pulsed in his brain.
He called his accountant. Explained with a groan.
These were the words that came back through the phone.

"Mister Pigritchie, I've no time to chat.
See, I'm in my coat with my muffler and hat.
We're going out carolling, egg nog and song.
Come hurry and meet us. We'll take you along."

He hung up the phone then and dialed it once more.
Tompkins, the lawyer man, he'd know the score.
"Beep." went the phone. "Hey, if you're in a lurch
Get hold of me later. We've gone out, to church."

Pascal Pigritchie ran uptown and down.
In stores and out like a fat, well dressed clown.
No one could tell him; could start to explain.
He started to think he was going insane.

Dashing and slipping out there in the dark
He slipped and fell heavily half 'cross the park.
Just for a minute he thought he had died.
Sat on a bench, hung his head low and cried.

Natalie Porchick, she was walking by.
Asked him, "Hey Mister; say why do you cry?"
When he had told her she was crying too.
Told him, "Here's Christmas for Slinkie and you."

Natalie Porchick, she pulled from her tote
A tiny wee box, and she pulled off the note.
"It's candy, from Mama; now my gift to you.
You take it to Slinkie so she won't be blue."

And there in that park with the box in his hand
Old Pascal Pigritchie could then understand.
He picked up wee Natalie, ran to a store,
Heaped her with presents and candy and more.

Pascal Pigritchie went back through the town
Tracing the path that he'd made coming down
Buying some gifts for each one on the way
That had tried helping him on that great day.

Finally homeward he headed at last,
Misunderstanding a thing of the past,
Sat with sweet Slinkie and in her small sock
Stuffed that wee box and he whispered, "Let's talk."