Christmas at the Firehouse
A Bachelor Firemen Short Story
 |
| Photo courtesy of Bill Bailey, The Calhoun Chronicle |
The sexy, smoldering “Bachelor Firemen” of San Gabriel were
usually seen in turnouts, SGFD t-shirts, or without any shirts at all. But on a
day shortly before Christmas, Station 1 was awash with Santa gear as the firefighters
competed for a role only one could play.
“Why shouldn’t a woman be Santa? We’ve never had a female
Santa.” Sabina Jones wore a Santa hat that kept falling over one eye, probably
because it belonged to her husband, Chief Roman, who had the build of a
gladiator.
“Only one person here has the belly to be Santa.” Double D
patted his stomach, which always grew a few inches around the holidays, what
with all the baked goods the citizens of San Gabriel kept dropping off at the
firehouse.
“Santa Claus isn’t about the belly.” Vader, the fittest guy
on the crew, shouldered his way to the front of the small knot of firefighters.
“It’s about personality. Kids love me. I’m like a superhero to them. Fire-Man
to the rescue.” He struck a pose, his open Santa jacket exposing his bulging
muscles.
Fred Breen snorted. “Santa isn’t a superhero, Vader. He’s
the spirit of Christmas, meaning peace and joy and giving. I should play Santa.
I get along great with kids. For six years I played an elf in the San Gabriel
Christmas pageant. Beat that, superhero.”
“Then again, Santa is called Father Christmas, and I’m the only father here,” said Captain Brody
proudly. As the first Bachelor Fireman to tie the knot, he savored his new role
as dedicated family man.
“Fine, pull the Dad card,” grumbled the station heartthrob, Ryan
Blake. “I’m the one who should be Santa, because I never had a decent Christmas
in my life before I came here.”
“Hey, if that’s the standard, I’m your front-runner,” said
Dean Mulligan, the newest member of the crew. “But I’m not in the running,” he
added quickly. “Unless you want to scare kids away from the fire truck. Then
I’m your man.” No one argued with that. Mulligan’s broken nose and tough guy
attitude were catnip to the ladies, but probably wouldn’t make for the best
Santa.
“This is ridiculous,” declared Sabina. “While we’re standing
here arguing, who’s going to pack all the gifts into the rig? Or string the
twinkle lights? Or hang the wreath on the front of the engine? The truck has to
be ready to roll by six.” Their traditional delivery of Christmas gifts to
families across San Gabriel was scheduled for that evening. The crew had been
collecting presents for weeks, and the community had been pitching in with
enthusiastic generosity. Everyone loved the Holiday Fire Truck -- perhaps the
crew most of all.
“Brody, you decide,” said Fred. “We’ll go with whoever you
say.”
Amid a chorus of agreement, Brody surveyed the firefighters,
with their motley array of Santa adornments. “Hmmm … well, it’s a tough choice.
I know you’d all make great Santas. You’re all kind, you’re all generous,
you’re all good-hearted. But since we can only have one Santa, I’m going to
say—”
“Ho ho ho!” A booming voice interrupted Brody. A huge, broad,
white-bearded man strode into the training room. He wore a red velvet suit with
white trim – classic Santa attire. A profusion of white hair covered most of
his face, and a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles balanced on his nose. “Merry
Christmas!”
The crew stood frozen to the spot. No one seemed to
recognize this Santa. Stan the Dog zipped out of the captain’s office, where
he’d been napping. Overcome with excitement, he jumped up and down on his hind
legs, a trick no one had ever seen him do before. They all watched in
amazement. When they looked up from the little beagle, the strange Santa had
disappeared.
“Was that Joe the Toe?” Mulligan asked, referring to a
fireman at the Porter Ranch station. “He’s the only guy I know that size.”
“Pretty good makeup job it if was,” said Vader.
Brody shook off the spell. “Come on, let’s catch up to him.
He strode down the corridor, the others following in his wake. When he reached
the entrance to the apparatus bay, where the pumper, truck and engine were
housed, he stopped short. The others piled up behind him. “What the …?”
Engine 1 radiated color cast from twinkle lights that
outlined every door, every compartment, every sleek line of the rig. Soft pools
of glowing light, orange and red and green, filled the garage. Fresh pine
scented the space -- thanks to the giant wreath adorning the engine’s grille.
And inside …
Oh my.
The firefighters ran to the engine door and peered inside at
piles of brightly wrapped presents of every size and shape, wrapped in gold or
green paper with red velvet bows, with shrink-wrapped candy canes sprinkled
here and there.
“Wow,” breathed Vader.
“Who did this?” Fred whirled around. “”Where’d that Santa
go? I was in here half an hour ago and this rig was empty.”
“I bet Porter Ranch sent a whole crew over here to do this.
That must have been Joe the Toe,” said Ryan Blake.
They all ran into the street, while Vader called Joe on the
phone. “Joe’s with his family in Boston,” he informed the crew. “Everyone
spread out. We have to find that Santa!”
But as hard as they looked, no one ever saw any sign of the
huge man in the Santa suit. No other station in town – and no other fire
department in Southern California – ever confessed to the deed.
But the children of San Gabriel had a wonderful holiday
season, as did the Bachelor Firemen. When the crew spoke of it in later years,
it was in hushed tones, and with the general agreement that it had definitely,
without a doubt, been the best firehouse Christmas prank ever.
Unless it wasn’t …
Wishing you a fire truck full of joy, peace and holiday cheer!
xo Jennifer
.jpg)
.jpg)
