the relief santa did not show up on time, and gruski kept on ringing his bell and watching the shoppers toss pennies and sometimes nickels and dimes into the kettle.
these things happened. the santas were not always the most reliable people, and gruski did not think it in any way remarkable when the new man did not show after an hour, after two hours.
the snow continued to fall, and got a little heavier. gruski was tired, and cut down on his ho-ho-ho’s, but kept ringing his bell like a trouper.
officer cooley came by, twirling his nightstick in the old-fashioned way, because he knew the tourists and hayseeds liked to see him do it.
“officer,” gruski greeted him, “how would you like to do poor santa a favor?”
“and how might i do that?” asked cooley.
“if you pass by the army office on your rounds, can you drop in and ask for sergeant jenkins and tell her that my relief has never showed up and i am still here. just tell her that.”
“i can do that. your name’s grumski, right?”
“gruski.”
“gruski. all right , gruski , i’ll give her that message. and if she isn’t there i will give someone else the message. do you know the name of the feller who didn’t show up?”
“no, i don’t . he was a new guy.”
“all right, i’ll tell her that. merry christmas, sir.” and with that officer cooley disappeared into the snow, twirling his stick.
“mer-ry christmas!” gruski called after him.
gruski stayed at his post. it started to get dark, and the number of shoppers and other passersby began to thin out, especially as the snow got heavier.
officer cooley came back, accompanied by sergeant jenkins herself. the sergeant was bundled up in her long cloak with her heavy cap down over her eyes and only her little red nose visible.
“you have done well, gruski, “ said the sergeant. “the army appreciates it.” she did not say whether gruski would get paid more for his longer shift, and gruski did not ask.
“how did we do?” the segeant asked, looking down into the kettle. she took a heavy bag from under her cloak, to transfer the coins into.
“what is that?” the sergeant asked.
“what is what?” gruski asked.
“looks like something on the bottom of the kettle - besides the coins.”
sometimes kids or other jokers threw things into the kettle. “i didn’t see anybody throw anything in,” said gruski.
the sergeant peered into the kettle more intently. “it looks like - a gun?”
“here, let me look,” said officer cooley. he produced a flashlight and shone it into the kettle. “it does indeed look like a gun.”
he poked a gloved finger into the kettle.
“wait here,” he told gruski and the sergeant. “i’ll hail a patrol car, or call it in.” he turned and headed toward broadway.
gruski and sergeant jenkins looks at each other.
“a bad business,” said the sergeant.
“not in the holiday spirit,” said gruski.
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