Hail to the Dinosaurs!
Every year I share a Christmas story with readers. It's an annual tradition here at Dino Headquarters -- along with our Dino Christmas tree, watching "White Christmas" (my dad's favorite Christmas movie), and doing lots of heavy leg and back work out in the garage.
This is part
two of this year's Christmas story. I posted part one on Monday -- if you
missed it, follow this link and read part 1 first:
http://dinosaurtraining.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-strongmans-christmas-part-1.html
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Yours in strength,
Brooks Kubik
The Strongman's Christmas (Part Two)
He got back to the theater early, and went back stage to his small dressing room.
He took off his heavy coat, and hung it on the hook on the wall.
He placed his hat on the dressing table, and laid his thick, warm leather gloves next to it.
There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by a high-pitched female voice.
“Are you decent?” the voice asked.
He
sighed, and shook his head. Maria always asked that question when she
knocked on his door. She always made it sound more than a little hopeful – as if she hoped he was disrobing when she knocked on his door.
“I’m dressed,” he called. “Come in!”
He could have sworn he heard a small sigh of disappointment from behind the door.
The door opened and a chorus girl with blonde curls and nice curves stepped into the dressing room.
“I brought you something,” she said. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“That was kind of you!” he said. “It smells good. What is it?”
“Chestnuts. Hot roasted chestnuts. I bought them from the little boy who runs the stand down the street.”
That caught his attention!
“A short little boy – about so tall?”
He held his hand out, palm down, indicating the boy’s height.
She nodded.
“Pale, white skin – no gloves – wears an old jacket that’s ripped and torn? Old black hat that’s two sizes too big for him?”
She nodded again.
“Do you know him?”
He nodded.
“My
hat ran away on a gust of wind earlier today,” he said. “He found it
for me. And he wouldn’t accept a penny for helping me – so I bought a
bag of chestnuts from him. It was the least I could do.”
“That’s funny,” she said.
“What – that my hat blew off?”
“No
– that he found it for you and wouldn’t accept any sort of payment.
The very same thing happened to me. Not with my hat – but with my favorite silver brooch. You know the one -- it was my mother's. I don't know how I lost it. But he found it, and brought it to me. And he wouldn’t accept
any kind of payment.”
“He seems like a good kid.”
She nodded.
“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” she said. “I just wish things weren’t so tough for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s
an orphan. His parents died in the flu epidemic a few years ago. He’s
been living on the streets ever since. I don’t know where he sleeps. I
think he has some kind of hiding place somewhere. I just hope it's warm. It must be really cold
outside in the winter!”
“How do you know about him?”
“He told me. We talk sometimes. I try to buy chestnuts from him whenever I can. Just to help out. He won’t take any handouts.”
He smiled.
“You’re getting a good bargain. They’re good chestnuts.”
She dropped her hands to her hips, moving them up and down in a sort of halfhearted slimming gesture.
“I don’t eat them,” she said, quickly (perhaps a little too quickly). “A girl has to watch her figure – you know how it is!”
He
chuckled. Maria seemed so concerned – and really, there was no reason at
all for her to feel that way. She was stunning. They always were. He’d
spent his whole life working in vaudeville and circuses, performing his
strongman act. The chorus girls were always stunning – but they always
worried about “watching their figures”!
“I wish there were some way to really help him,” said the strongman. “Something more than just buying chestnuts from him.”
Maria shook her head.
“There’s nothing else to do,” she said. “I don’t have much, but I’ve tried to give him money. He won’t take it. Not a penny. ”
The strongman nodded slowly. He understood.
“He won’t take charity. He know he has to make his own way in life. He'll work for money, and he'll sell chestnuts to you, but that's all."
Now it was Maria's turn to nod her head in understanding. He was right.
“That’s what I had to do,” she said.
He leaned forward and kissed the top her head.
“Me, too,” he said. “It’s what we all had to do. All of us who perform for a living. We all have the same story.”
A young stagehand popped his head around the side of the door. He had red hair and freckles, and was chewing a huge wad of gum.
“Curtain call in thirty minutes!” he said. “You’d better start to get ready!”
The chorus girl turned and stuck out her tongue.
“You’re worse than the stage manager,” she said.
“I know!” laughed the stagehand. “That’s why you love me so much!”
She laughed.
"You think all the girls love you!"
"No, just you! That's why we're getting married."
“Married? Hell will freeze over before I marry you!"
“Then I’m in luck!” countered the stagehand. “”As cold as it is, that just might happen!”
He turned and headed down the hall, whistling a popular love-song.
The chorus girl turned back to the strongman.
“I have to go now,” she said. “I need to get dressed.”
He nodded.
“Me, too.”
“I’d like to stay,” she said. “I mean – to talk. You know. But I gotta get changed.”
He nodded.
“Duty calls. The show must go on.”
“Yeah – something like that.”
Maria girl turned. left the room and walked down the hall to the dancer’s dressing room.
The
strongman closed the door, and started to change into his costume. As
he did, he thought about the little boy who made a living by selling hot
roasted chestnuts. There must be some way to help him!
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
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