The Guy in the Barbed Wire Hat

guy with barbed wire hat

clipart, coreldraw

It was the week before Christmas and the town-centre bar was busy. Late-night shoppers, colleagues meeting before the ‘works’ Christmas dinner’. In the next booth were four women, two men, all in their tinsel, each glowing louder with every new drink.

One of the woman, red hair flowing from her crown like blood gushing from a fresh gash, said in voice straining above the others, “I’m pagan. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

Her young male colleague, lime-green shirt and gel-crisped hair, sat for a moment in obvious confusion. Then said, “What, no presents, no turkey and pudding?”

“Well, yes, I have those. But it’s for the solstice, not for Christmas.”

He still looked uncertain, unable to grasp what she was sayng. “So you’ve already done all that . . . yesterday?”

“Well, no. Everything closes Christmas Day, so I leave it till then.”

“So what’s the difference?”

“Well, on Solstice Night I sit quietly alone and consider the Solstice message.”

“Yea? What d’you do that for?”

“Because I’m a pagan.”

He shrugged. “I’m a Christian.”

“So don’t you give time to consider the Christian message?”

Again he shrugged, a lift of one shoulder. “There is one?”

Another colleague, an older woman, leaned over the beer-dripped table. “The Nativity,” she prompted. “Baby Jesus.”

His face brightened. “Oh! Yea, I know about him. He was the guy in the barbed wire hat.”

About crispina kemp

Spinner of Asaric and Mythic tales
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