Santa baby
Slip a sable
Under the tree
For me
I've been
An awful good girl
Santa baby
So hurry down
The chimney tonight
("Santa Baby" - Javits/Springer/Ebb)
--------------------
"Dean Springsteen from Kansas, huh?" The man sitting across from me lifted his eyes from the job application he was holding in his hands. "You're a long way from home, son."
"It's just over the rainbow," I quipped, pasting on a fake smile. I didn't need to be reminded how far away from home I was. I knew that better than anyone.
"Never been there myself," he continued. "Knew a Dorothy from Kansas once, though. Cute girl."
I groaned. "Can you please refrain from the Oz jokes? They're getting a little old."
The man looked at me, a little perplexed. "I wasn't joking."
"Right," I replied dubiously and quickly changed the subject. "So, what about the job?"
He sighed, laid my application on his desk, and folded his hands. I could tell from the look on his face that I didn't stand a chance. I'd seen the look enough times before. "Well, Dean, your resume is a little sketchy, and you have no references. How are you with kids?"
"Kids?" I asked doubtfully. "I'm great with kids," I assured him, privately trying to remember the last time I'd spent any time with one. It was probably that kid Jesse back in Nebraska. He reminded me of Damien from The Omen, only not as creepy. Cas thought he was the Anti-Christ. Hell, he was just a kid.
"Let me hear your Ho," he said, interrupting my thoughts.
I blinked in surprise. "My what?"
"Your Ho. Santa is a jolly old elf. I want to hear your Ho."
I dragged my mind out of the gutter and realized what it was that he wanted. "Oh," I replied, not feeling terribly confident. "Um, Ho Ho Ho?" I ventured, uncertainly.
"Your Ho needs work," he muttered, tilting his head to scrutinize me further. "I dunno, kid. You're too young, too skinny, and too serious. Santa is old and fat and jolly."
"Come on, man. Gimme a break. I just got here. I've got no no money, no food, no place to stay. I need this job to tide me over."
I was mostly lying, but he didn't need to know that. I knew I could probably hustle up a game of pool or poker, if I was pressed hard enough, but I figured playing Santa was a pretty good gig. All I had to do was sit around all day handing out candy canes, patting kids on the head, and listening to their wish lists. Piece of cake. I tried to look as pathetic and needy as possible.
He looked at me thoughtfully and sighed, frowning. "Okay, I'm a sucker for a hard case, but you're gonna have to pad up and work on your Ho."
"Right, got it. When do I start?"
"Today." He scribbled something on a slip of paper and handed it to me. "See Mindy. She'll get you set up with a Santa suit and a beard."
I nodded and shoved the slip of paper into a pocket. For the first time in my life, I was gainfully employed.
"And remember to be jolly!" he called, as I headed for the door. "A grumpy Santa is bad for business."
Jolly. Right. I could do jolly. How hard could it be?
Slip a sable
Under the tree
For me
I've been
An awful good girl
Santa baby
So hurry down
The chimney tonight
("Santa Baby" - Javits/Springer/Ebb)
--------------------
"Dean Springsteen from Kansas, huh?" The man sitting across from me lifted his eyes from the job application he was holding in his hands. "You're a long way from home, son."
"It's just over the rainbow," I quipped, pasting on a fake smile. I didn't need to be reminded how far away from home I was. I knew that better than anyone.
"Never been there myself," he continued. "Knew a Dorothy from Kansas once, though. Cute girl."
I groaned. "Can you please refrain from the Oz jokes? They're getting a little old."
The man looked at me, a little perplexed. "I wasn't joking."
"Right," I replied dubiously and quickly changed the subject. "So, what about the job?"
He sighed, laid my application on his desk, and folded his hands. I could tell from the look on his face that I didn't stand a chance. I'd seen the look enough times before. "Well, Dean, your resume is a little sketchy, and you have no references. How are you with kids?"
"Kids?" I asked doubtfully. "I'm great with kids," I assured him, privately trying to remember the last time I'd spent any time with one. It was probably that kid Jesse back in Nebraska. He reminded me of Damien from The Omen, only not as creepy. Cas thought he was the Anti-Christ. Hell, he was just a kid.
"Let me hear your Ho," he said, interrupting my thoughts.
I blinked in surprise. "My what?"
"Your Ho. Santa is a jolly old elf. I want to hear your Ho."
I dragged my mind out of the gutter and realized what it was that he wanted. "Oh," I replied, not feeling terribly confident. "Um, Ho Ho Ho?" I ventured, uncertainly.
"Your Ho needs work," he muttered, tilting his head to scrutinize me further. "I dunno, kid. You're too young, too skinny, and too serious. Santa is old and fat and jolly."
"Come on, man. Gimme a break. I just got here. I've got no no money, no food, no place to stay. I need this job to tide me over."
I was mostly lying, but he didn't need to know that. I knew I could probably hustle up a game of pool or poker, if I was pressed hard enough, but I figured playing Santa was a pretty good gig. All I had to do was sit around all day handing out candy canes, patting kids on the head, and listening to their wish lists. Piece of cake. I tried to look as pathetic and needy as possible.
He looked at me thoughtfully and sighed, frowning. "Okay, I'm a sucker for a hard case, but you're gonna have to pad up and work on your Ho."
"Right, got it. When do I start?"
"Today." He scribbled something on a slip of paper and handed it to me. "See Mindy. She'll get you set up with a Santa suit and a beard."
I nodded and shoved the slip of paper into a pocket. For the first time in my life, I was gainfully employed.
"And remember to be jolly!" he called, as I headed for the door. "A grumpy Santa is bad for business."
Jolly. Right. I could do jolly. How hard could it be?