Red Suit, Green Guys, Silver Bells
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or situations created for TGAH; I am borrowing them purely for entertainment purposes and am making no profit from their use. Thank you to Stephen J. Cannell, the cast, producers, writers, directors, and crew for giving us this wonderful, timeless show and the characters that bring it to life.
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Ralph and Bill stood squinting up at the glowing orb-shaped ship hovering a hundred feet over the dark desert floor.
"What do you think they want this time?" Ralph asked. He tugged self-consciously at the neck of his cape. "I mean on Christmas Eve and everything. Do they know it's Christmastime at all?"
"Well, Ralph," Bill answered, loosening his tie. "I think that's safe to say, yeah. Judging by the message."
"And the messenger, too," Ralph said. "I mean Bing Crosby. That was so weird."
"'Weird' just about sums it up, kid," Bill said. "Der Bingle singing 'I'm dreaming of a Green Christmas.' I'm guessing that's not in the standard rotation at KROQ."
"It really sounded like him," Ralph said. "I mean it really sounded like Bing Crosby. If I didn't know better I'd think…"
Bill shot him a look.
"What?" the agent said. "You not sayin'-"
He cocked an eyebrow and glanced skyward.
Ralph shrugged.
"I don't know," he said. "But if it wasn't Bing Crosby it was Rich Little. And he's still alive so…"
Bill stared upward.
"You don't suppose they've got old Dino up there, do you?" he said after a moment. "'Cause I could live with that. I mean, after I was de- ah..."
He stretched out a hand parallel to the ground.
"After that, you know," he went on, "It'd be good to have some decent entertainment to take your mind off'a flying around in the sky forever."
Ralph crossed his arms and turned to face his partner.
"Bill," he said slowly. "Out of all the possible people in the history of the world you could spend eternity with, you pick Dean Martin? What about Galileo or Thomas Jefferson or… or Einstein? I mean, come on. Dean Martin?"
Bill shrugged.
"Who needs more yammerin' after you're de- after everything?" he said. "I get plenty of that from you. And I doubt they'll have booze up there. How else am I gonna relax?"
"But you don't even like music," Ralph said.
"I don't like your music," Bill corrected him. "I'm okay with good music."
Ralph gave a snort.
"How can you just dismiss the entire spectrum of modern popular music like that?" he said. "That's just so... so narrow minded. What about Billy Joel or Elton John? Or John Denver – you'd like John Denver."
"Kid, I don't even have a record player," Bill said. "What do I care about John Elton or John Whoever. And at least with Dino, if he takes a break from singin' you know you'd have something to talk about. Like dames. You could always talk about dames. Or se-"
Both men jumped as a brilliant white light blazed from the bottom of the hovering ship.
"Aw, jeez," Bill said, shading his eyes as he stared upward. "I almost forgot about them."
"I'd really like to get home," Ralph said, adjusting his cape again. "Pam and I were going to exchange presents at midnight."
"What'd you get her this year?" Bill said, brushing back his graying hair. "A sewing machine?"
"No," Ralph said. "I got her earrings. I learned my lesson last year."
Bill barked a laugh.
"Yeah, the garden gloves were a big hit," he said. "Did you just really wanna sleep on the couch?"
"She likes to garden," Ralph said. "They were really nice gloves. From a catalog."
"Oh, well, a catalog," Bill said. "I don't get what her beef was then. Did you tell her they were from a catalog? 'Cause that coulda saved you a lotta grief."
"Shut up," Ralph said. "Something's happening."
High overhead, a blue light flared. Sparkles of white light fluttered down, shimmering in the night air. Ralph blinked as a piece of light landed on his upturned face. It felt cold.
"Snow!" he said. "It's snowing in the desert! Bill isn't this amazing?"
He turned to his partner and found his face locked in a tight grimace.
"Jeez, I hate this kinda stuff," Bill said through clenched teeth. "They know I hate this stuff. They're up there right now laughing their little green asses off."
Ralph rolled his eyes.
"Bill, where's your sense of wonder?" he said.
"Tijuana," Bill answered. "It's the most wonderful place on Earth so that's where I leave it when I'm not using it, which is most of the time."
"Well, I'm enjoying this," Ralph said. He closed his eyes and let the shining flakes drift down onto his cheeks and eyelashes.
"I'd keep an eye open if I was you," Bill said. "They've probably got really advanced banana cream pie technolog- Hold it, something's happening."
Ralph reluctantly opened his eyes. The light in the center of the bright circle seemed to be... thickening.
"What is that?" he said, squinting up into the light. "Is there something up there?"
The light flared blue then red, flashed blue again, and faded. On the sand in front of them, in the middle of a shrinking circle of blue light, stood a sleigh.
Long and low, it stood on wide silver runners that ended in filigree curls at either end. The front half of the body consisted of a silver railing running in front of a bench lined with a red velveteen cushions. The back half was an open compartment. In the compartment stood a huge red bag tied with a gold cord.
The railing and trim sparkled as the circle of light shrunk around it. Ralph gaped.
"Well, would you look at that," he murmured.
"No," said Bill. He turned on his heel and waved up at the slowly rotating spaceship.
"Keep drinkin' that spiked eggnog up there," he called toward the sky as he paced across the sand toward his car. "Any minute now you're gonna be just hilarious."
The spaceship paused in the act of heeling over on its side and rolled back. The bright circle of light flared again.
"Bill…" Ralph said. "I don't think they're kidding."
Bill stopped halfway to his car and stood frozen for a long moment. Then Ralph saw the shoulders of his nutmeg brown suit move as he heaved a deep sigh.
"Fine," he muttered as he turned and trudged back across the sand. "But I'm not wearing a pointy hat."
High above them, the spaceship continued its roll and sailed up into the night sky like a neon-trimmed balloon.
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Ralph reached out and tapped a tiny silver bell hanging from the curling tip of one of the sleigh's runners.
"Well," he said thoughtfully as the high, tinkling ring died away. "It's obviously Santa's sleigh. I don't think there's any doubt about that. But I don't know what we're supposed to do with it."
Bill was sitting on the red cushioned bench seat. He was slumped forward with his head in his hands.
"All I wanted for Christmas," he said into his palms, "Was a glass of scotch and a quiet place to drink it. That's all. No snow. No sleighs. No green guys. Just scotch. It was a real simple wish."
Ralph heaved a sigh.
"Bill," he said, crouching down to site along the body. "Could you lay off the Scrooge routine for just a minute and help me figure out what I'm supposed to do here?"
Bill's hands fell to his lap.
"Well," he said, raising his head to stare at Ralph as the younger man stood and walked around the front of the sleigh. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the 'what' is the easy part."
"I mean, the whole Santa scenario is pretty well mapped out," he went on. "You're supposed to, you know, fly around dropping presents down chimneys. Case closed."
He levered himself up off the bench and went to stand by Ralph. The headlights from his car picked out each silver bell decorating the gleaming chassis of the sleigh.
"It's not exactly a stealth vehicle," he said.
"Right now it's not a vehicle at all," Ralph said, pacing around to the opposite side and giving that a critical look. "It might as well be a planter."
He turned and stared at the sandy earth in front of the sleigh.
"We seem to be missing a critical component," he said. "Namely, eight reindeer. Tiny or otherwise."
Bill pursed his lips.
"All right," he said after a moment's pause. "I'm not getting' any closer to that scotch while we stand here starin' at it. What we need is a survey of command. Think you can drag it behind you?"
Ralph shrugged.
"I guess I could," he said slowly. "But I don't see any stabilizers. Half the presents might wind up in the Pacific."
Bill nodded.
"All right, maybe you're supposed to drive it," he said. "Hop in and give it a taste of the old brainwaves."
Ralph sighed again and moved to slide onto the red plush bench.
"I've never tried telekinesis on anything this big," he said. "I hope I don't break it."
"'You can't move standing still'," Bill said. "That's Hannibal."
"I assume you're paraphrasing," Ralph said as he settled onto the cushion. "This seat isn't as soft as it looks."
"Why do I get the feeling your 'sense of wonder' wandered off?" Bill said.
"I think it's already at home with Pam having a cup of cocoa with little floating marshmallows," Ralph answered. "All right, here goes."
Ralph took a deep breath and stretched out his hands toward the runners. His eyelids fluttered closed and his face tightened in a grimace of concentration.
"Wait a minute," Bill said, "I think I'm about to save you a mental hernia here."
Ralph's eyelids flew open.
"You have an idea?" he said.
Bill stepped to the front of the sleigh and took Ralph's hands in his. Ralph's eyebrows went up in surprise as the other man pushed his palms down toward the silver rail that ran in front of the bench.
The instant his hands touched the cool metal rail, the sleigh began to vibrate. His head jerked up and he stared at Bill in amazement, a broad grin spreading across his face.
"How did you figure that out?" Ralph said.
Bill shrugged and circled around to climb onto the bench beside his partner.
"Reminded me of handlebars on a bike," he said.
The sleigh rose shudderingly into the air, then coasted forward, gaining speed. Within seconds they were skimming over the sand.
"This is so cool!" Ralph said as he bent to the side and angled the sleigh into a banking turn.
Bill gripped the edge of the seat.
"Take it easy, kid," he said. "There's no seatbelts in this thing. I don't wanna be a Santa casualty."
"It's okay," Ralph said grinning wildly as he did a looping figure eight over Bill's car. "I'll bet we're in some kind of protective bubble. You know, I always used to wonder how Santa delivered everything in one night."
"I always used to wonder why Santa brought me half a pack of gum instead of a fire truck," Bill muttered. "Life's full of little mysteries."
Ralph didn't seem to be listening.
"I'll bet this is some kind of time-space vehicle," he said, his blond curls tossing in the wind of their accelerating travel. "It could be trans-dimensional."
He cocked his head toward the cargo compartment.
"That sack's got to be bigger on the inside than it is on the outside to hold everything," he said. "Why don't you take a look and see if it's got any instructions on where we should go first."
"Yeah," Bill said, turning to reach over the back of the seat. "Good idea. It'll keep my mind off wondering when you're going to plow into a cactus. Can we get a little altitude on this thing?"
"No problem!" Ralph said.
The nose of the sleigh angled sharply upward in a steep climb. Bill just managed to catch himself on the back of the bench seat before he tumbled over onto the sack.
"Jeez, Ralph!" he said when he managed to get his head higher than his feet again. "I always thought it was the suit's fault you fly like a brick in a headwind. Now I'm beginning to wonder."
"See anything?" Ralph said, leveling out their forward flight and angling toward the nearby mountains.
"Just a minute."
Bill pried loose the gold cord around the top of the sack and fumbled inside. He tugged out a worn piece of parchment.
"Well, I'll be damned," he said surveying the list of names. "There is a list."
"What's our first stop?" Ralph said over his shoulder.
"Uh," Bill scanned the paper. "Looks like San Pedro."
He dug in the sack and pulled out a pastel-colored stuffed poodle. He looked back at the list.
"Lindsay Grovers," he read aloud. "Pink poodle. Check."
"Uh," Ralph said, glancing over again. "Which way is San Pedro?"
"West," Bill answered.
"Yeah, but.." Ralph's voice trailed off.
Bill rolled his eyes and pointed to the left.
"Great!" Ralph said, turning the sleigh sharply left. "Next stop San Pedro."
"Next stop traction," Bill muttered, clutching at the back of the seat.
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Timmy Gillespie yawned and stretched. He blinked up at the stick-on stars glowing over his bed. He could hear a whispering voice out in the living room and a crinkling sound. Then there was a loud "thump" and somebody said, "Rats!"
Timmy sat up and stretched his bare feet toward the floor. He tugged the pants of his Spiderman pajamas up as he shuffled quietly to the door. His mother had left it open a crack, as always. In the light of the lantern-shaped nightlight at the end of the hall outside he could see a red shape.
He gasped and pulled the door open wide. A man with curly yellow hair in red pajamas and a cape was leaning up the chimney saying, "No, I'm not going to look for the liquor cabinet; I almost knocked over the tree a minute ago. Now get out of the way, I'm coming up."
Timmy stepped on Brandy's squeaky pig chew toy. A wheezy squeal rang out in the dark room. Timmy and the man in red pajamas both jumped. The man spun around. He gave Timmy a big lopsided smile.
"Hi," the man whispered.
"Hi," Timmy whispered back. "Are you Santa's helper?"
"Um, yes," the man said. "Yes. That's right. His helper, Timmy."
Timmy's eyes opened wide.
"My name's Timmy, too!" he said.
"No, I mean-" the man looked confused for a minute, then said. "Never mind. I brought your present, Timmy. It's right over there."
The man pointed at the stack of boxes under the tree and Timmy ran forward to see. He fell down on his knees and tugged out the box that said Play Castle.
He gave the man a big smile.
"Thank you," he whispered. "It's perfect!"
"You're welcome," the man said, smiling back. "Um, Timmy, I wonder if I could get you to do me a little favor."
Timmy nodded eagerly.
"Sure!" he said.
The man looked back at Brandy's chew toy.
"Do you have a dog?" he said.
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Pam woke to the sound of feet scuffing on the roof. She squinted at the digital clock on the writing desk. 4:15. She yawned and sat up on the sofa.
The next sounds she expected to hear were a thud on the lawn and the front door opening. Instead, she heard a rustling sound in the chimney. She cocked an eyebrow at the hearth.
Two red boots appeared and the next instant Ralph was sliding out onto the carpet.
"Merry Christmas," she said, holding out one of the wine glasses.
Ralph grinned at her and sat up. His glance took in her tousled hair and the rumpled state of her pink pajamas.
"Fell asleep on the sofa?" he said, taking the glass from her hand.
"Uh-huh," she answered and yawned. "You and Bill figure out what you needed to do for the green guys?"
"Eventually," he answered. He took a long sip from the glass.
"Mmm, that's good," he said a moment later. "I can't tell you how many glasses of milk I've had tonight."
"Milk?" she said, cocking an eyebrow.
"Yeah," he said. "It's been pretty amaz- Oh, there's Bill."
There was a thud on the lawn and a moment later the front door flew open.
"Cute, Ralph," Bill said as he stormed into the room. "Real cute. I'll remember that next time you want a traffic ticket fixed."
"You've never fixed a traffic ticket for me," Ralph said, taking another sip from his glass.
"And I'm not gonna start now," Bill said through clenched teeth. He grabbed the wine glass from Ralph's hand.
"Merry Christmas, Counselor," he said and took a swig from the glass. "Nice pajamas."
"Thanks, Bill," she said, retrieving her robe from the back of the sofa. "What's going on?"
"Ralph?" she said pointedly.
"It's a long story, honey," Ralph said, picking up the second glass of wine. "Let's just say, I have a new appreciation for elves."
Pam's eyes widened.
"Ralph," she said breathlessly. "You had to be Santa?"
He blinked up at her.
"I told you she's smart," Bill said. "You got anything to eat that's not covered in frosting or full of chocolate chips?"
Ralph frowned.
"I got you those dog biscuits," he said.
Bill snorted and turned toward the kitchen.
"Tartar Control," he said. "I hate Tatar Control. Tastes like charcoal."
He disappeared around the kitchen door.
Ralph looked up to find Pam still staring at him open-mouthed.
"What?" he said.
Pam's mouth opened and closed a few times, then she shook her head.
"Okay, Ralph," she said, "You can tell me all about it later."
She leaned down and kissed his forehead.
"Merry Christmas, Santa Baby," she said staring deep into his bright blue eyes.
"So'd you give her the earrings?"
Bill was leaning against the door to the dining room, a box of biscuits under his arm and the replenished wine glass in his hand.
"Bill!" Ralph said.
"Oh, sorry," Bill said, biting the end off a biscuit. "Hey, I'll be back in the morning. I figure they're not gonna need the sleigh back tonight. It's okay on the roof. Everybody will think it's a decoration."
"I'm takin' your car, Ralph," he said, setting his wine glass down on the dinner table and grabbing a small ring of keys from the hook by the door.
He tugged open the door and stepped out onto the stoop. A moment later, his head reappeared.
"Merry Christmas, Santa," he said, grinning. "Mrs. Claus. You kids have fun now."
The door closed behind him and Pam and Ralph gazed at each other.
"Earrings?" she said.
He nodded.
"Good choice," she said, reaching down to help him to his feet. "Let's go find the mistletoe and I'll explain to you why earrings are better than garden gloves."
A few minutes later, there was a soft "ho, ho, ho" and a giggle from the bedroom. Up on the roof, the silver sleigh faded and disappeared.
- end -
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