Sunday, December 13, 2009


PART 13, December 13

That night not a soul in the shack slept soundly. Every ear was turned to the barn, just hoping to catch some sound of the trap being tripped. No such sound ever came. All they heard was the December wind whistling up under the eaves. It was a long night.

The next morning Hickory Hog went out to the barn. The locks on the doors were still in place. Everything seemed as it ought to be. The trap was still concealed and in place. There was nothing to do but wait for the next night to see if this would smoke out that old Christmas Rascal.

It was getting closer to Christmas now. There was still no snow on the ground and no sign in the sky of it to come yet. They may not get their snow very early, but some always fell no later than Christmas eve. Of course, no snow yet had nothing to do with the Christmas Rascal at all, or did it?

A knock came on the door. Hickory Hog went to open it. There before him stood an earnest young man with a camera in his hand. "David Potter," he said, introducing himself. "Potatotown Press! I understand you folks have been having a little bit of trouble with the infamous Christmas Rascal."

"You said it!" agreed Whizzer Worm. "We've been having a simply terrible time of it. He frightened the little bird over there, stole Hickory Hog's corn, stole my potatoes and caused us to jump all over that man there."

"Oh, is that all?" replied Mr. Potter.

"Well, all up to now," said Hickory Hog, "We have set a trap for him, but..."

“A trap?"

Yes, but it didn't do any good. He didn't fall for it."

"What was it?"

"I put together a manger scene out in the barn, I knew he couldn't resist it. Then I put wires all around so that the minute he tried to do anything at all he'd be snared and thrown up in a sack in the hayloft. But, like I said, it didn't do any good.”

"Could we see this?"

"I guess so."

"Good! I'd like to take a picture of it, for when you do capture him, that is."

Hickory led the way to the barn. He opened the door. Everything was as it had been before. All of a sudden the little bird (they had all come along to see) piped up, "Where's the baby Jesus?"

© 1989 Kevin Don Levellie

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