A Christmas Carol
Even down here at the tail end of civilization, us South Enders have been hearing talk lately about Income Inequality. Cap’n Billy down at the Marina claims it’s nothing less, this talk, than an assault on the Rich. “The Losers,” he declares, knocking the ash from his briar on the pier pilings, “they want to pull the successful down to their level. Take their money and give it to the freeloaders on welfare.” He beats his pipe the way he’d like to beat some sense into Jimmy the Geek who made the mistake of arguing with Billy.
“All I’m saying, Bill, is these folks didn’t get all the money cause they worked 1000 times harder — they got tax breaks. I work for Boeing but Boeing got billions to stay in the state. I call that corporate welfare. Workers are getting their wages cut while the stockholders and the executives, hell Bill, they’re getting fat.”
Cap’n Billy is getting Hot. “I worked hard for my pay, dammit. I don’t need you pencil pushers telling me I ought to give part of it back so some lazy do-nothing can sit home and watch TV all day when the government gives him his Handout. What’s your gripe, anyway, Jim, you’re doing okay? You one of those bleeding heart socialists?”
And so it went. Jim and I walked the gangplank up to the Pilot House for a cold one, admittedly a little early, but sometimes you just got to cool off. Loretta was bartending, took our order and when she parked two pints in front of us, asked if we’d care to give to the Food Bank where she volunteers two days a week. “I’ll give two beers,” I said, quite the comic, but Jim took out his wallet all serious like and fished out a twenty.
“Thanks for doing this, Loretta,” he said. So of course I felt like the Grinch. I gave her a ten. “Expensive beers,” I joked. Jimmy shook his head. “We’re lucky dogs,” he said, taking a long slow sip. The bar’s Christmas lights twinkled off his glasses.
We clinked pints. “Here’s to the winners,” I toasted, ever the jokester. Jimmy grinned, just as Cap’n Billy pushed through the door.
“Loretta,” Jimmy cried, “get the Cap’n a beer! It’s on us.” Bill waved him off, but Loretta poured him one anyway. “Merry Christmas, Bill,” Jimmy said. “Merry Christmas, boys,” Bill said back. “Merry Christmas one and all!” Loretta warbled. We all four sat for awhile, listening to the corny Jingle Bells Loretta had on the radio over the bar. Maybe it wasn’t the ghost of Christmas Future, but down here on the South End, it would have to do.
Hits: 58