Judge Who Stole Christmas

Chapter 1 Thursday, December 1 Doggone it," grunted Thomas, glancing toward the Holstein as the big fella lifted its tail. "What're they feedin' that thing anyway?" Theresa smiled to herself and watched the cow pie form on the woodchips blanketing the ground of their makeshift manger. Thomas shook his head then hustled behind the partition that formed the back of their little stall, strategically located on one side of the Possum town square. He returned with a shovel and black plastic bag, scooping up the mess before the family of four climbed out of the Ford Explorer at the edge of the square. Visitors had been sparse tonight, kept away by a cold and steady drizzle. Plus, people didn't usually have time to visit the live manger scene this early in the season. There was simply too much shopping to do. "I'd help you out, but I just got baby Jesus to sleep," said Theresa, as she cuddled the plastic doll wrapped in swaddling Wal-Mart blankets. "You know what a momma's boy He is." "Don't be disrespectful," muttered Thomas, his voice low so he couldn't be heard by the approaching family. They had learned that it somehow broke the reverence of the occasion if Mary and Joseph were bickering. "Didn't mean no disrespect," Theresa whispered. She looked lovingly at the baby in her arms, its chubby little face glistening as the spotlight bounced off its plastic cheeks. It was only a doll, but it was special in so many ways. For two years this doll had played the part of the Christ child in the otherwise live Nativity scene. And Theresa, who had been honored to take her shift as a thirtyfive- year-old replica of the teenage Virgin Mary, had seen some pretty amazing things happen when people came to visit. But the baby doll was special for other reasons as well. It was, after all, the favorite doll of Theresa's eight-year-old daughter, Hannah, a constant companion that Hannah had named "Bebo" when Hannah was only three. Bebo's plastic face, hands, and feet, once a clean and fleshy pink, now took on the hue of a Middle Eastern baby, colored by thousands of hugs, kisses, and strokes from Hannah's grubby little hands and lips. Bebo's cloth body had been patched twice in an effort to keep the stuffing from falling out. Other dolls and stuffed animals had come and gone in the Hammond household, but Bebo stayed around, sleeping under Hannah's arm every night. Because she was nearly human anyway, Bebo was a natural choice to play the Christ child. Nobody outside the Hammond family needed to know that Bebo was really a girl. "What smells?" asked the approaching teenage girl as she turned up her nose and huddled under an umbrella with her mother. "Maybe one of the shepherds farted," said her younger brother. Theresa noticed Thomas stiffen, but she knew he would hold his tongue. As soon as the family left, however, Thomas would complain about the lack of discipline in families these days. "Justin!" snapped the boy's father. He stood to the boy's side, hunched down in his own trench coat, seeking protection from the wind and drizzle. "That's not even funny," said the girl. " 'That's not even funny,' " mocked Justin. "You're such a suck-up." Theresa watched as the dad glared at Justin, but the boy avoided his father's eyes. Theresa gauged Justin to be junior-high agethirteen, maybe fourteen. He was listening to his iPod, swaying slightly to its beat, his face shielded by a large hoodedSinger, Randy D. is the author of 'Judge Who Stole Christmas ', published 2005 under ISBN 9781400070572 and ISBN 1400070570.