There are Christmas stories and there are Christmas stories.  Then there is this story.  Enjoy Part 1 of this story and your holidays. 


DARREN WALKER SAT IN his house on the couch in the dark.  It was two a.m. on Christmas Day in Buffalo, New York.  His favorite Louisville Slugger baseball bat was across his lap.  A 30,000 voltage stun gun was on the couch beside him.  He did not have a nine-millimeter pistol because his wife did not want guns around their kids.

Darren had been on the couch since Christmas Eve at eight pm.  He was waiting on Santa Claus to appear.  He had a few questions for the fat man.  He was intent on getting answers.  No answers, or the wrong answers, and the fat man in the red suit was not leaving.

It would appear strange for a forty-seven-year-old man to wait for Santa Claus with the intent of causing him bodily harm—unless you knew the story.

One year ago, Darren and Felicia, his wife, and their three children had their family tradition before Christmas.  It was probably a typical comfortable evening for many of Buffalo’s 256,000 residents. 

On Christmas Eve, Darren’s family went out and had Buffalo-style pizza.  Always with extra pepperoni.  And the meal was not complete without a few Buffalo-style wings.  Then they walked home.

Living close to the city made it a nice family night out.  There was just enough snow on the ground to have that feeling of Christmas.  But it was starting to come down harder.

Once home, they had their traditional hot chocolate with marshmallows.  At eight and nine o’clock, the kids went up to bed.  That left Darren and Felicia with some alone time.  They watched movies and had a few drinks.  Then they finished the final touches of wrapping the children’s gifts.

At eleven o’clock, they went up to bed.  Another perfect family tradition was behind them.  A wonderful Christmas was just hours away. 

At one-thirty a.m. Darren was startled awake.  He sat up quickly.  That woke Felicia.  She sat up too.  Darren whispered for her to be quiet.  Someone was downstairs.  Chairs were sliding across the floor.  The refrigerator opened and closed.  Things fell over.

Darren grabbed his baseball bat from the corner.  He told Felicia, “Call the police.”  She grabbed her cell phone.  Darren headed downstairs.

I hope you enjoyed Part 1.

It should get us into the Christmas spirit.  Albeit in a warped way.

But if you enjoyed the story so far, please pass it along to a friend.

I’ll see you tomorrow.


Stephen Wallace 

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