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A Quiet Night
By Harriet Cooper
It is December 24th and I have a deadline. While my official title is editor, at
least that's what it says on the masthead, I'm also the only reporter for our
local paper. To be honest, it's not much of a paper, but it's the only thing
that passes for news in this town and it pays for my food and clothing.
This late in the year it's tough to come up with anything new or interesting.
Sure, there is the usual penny ante stuff. Abraham sold three donkeys that were
older than his mother and Isaac has gone into business with his father-in-law
selling used camels. Oh, and there is some talk around the well that Sarah is
getting a little too familiar with a certain traveling salesman, but nothing
worthy of the front page.
I am starting to get worried because it takes days to have the scribes copy out
the paper so we can start to distribute it. But without a lead story, there
isn't much I can do.
Then again, what can you expect from a one-camel town like this? It's not like
the good old days in Sodom and Gomorrah when you could find a spicy sex scandal
on every corner. And it had been years since we had a real flood. As for war?
The Philistines have been beaten and aren't any threat and the Egyptians are
keeping a low profile these days.
Life is getting pretty boring around here.
There do seem to be an unusual number of people in town now, some convention I think, but nothing earth-shattering. I've been checking
out all the usual watering holes, looking for something interesting, but all
I've gotten is a headache from drinking too much warm beer.
It's time to hit the hay. Unfortunately, I am going to have to do that
literally. The inn is so full, my brother-in-law, cheap bastard that he is, has
thrown me out so he could rent my room which is barely the size of a closet.
That's the last time he'll get any free advertising in my paper.
So here I am, stuck in the barn with the animals. Sheep, cows, goats, you name
it. We are all bedding down together for the night and they are a lot happier
about it than I am. God knows what I am going to wake up with in the morning. My
skin is already starting to itch just thinking about the fleas.
I guess I've slept in worse places. At least it is fairly warm for this late in
the year.
Just as I am falling asleep, voices penetrate my consciousness. Damn, there goes
my quiet night. I sit up to see my brother-in-law bringing people into the barn.
That cheap so-and-so is even renting this space to some poor, stranded
out-of-towners.
Knowing him, he's probably taking them for all they're worth, though from what I
can see, they don't look as if they'd have two shekels to rub together. Just a
man, his wife, and a donkey, none of them looking too good. From the dust on
their clothes, they must have been traveling for some time.
For a minute, my reporter's instinct kicks in and I peer closer. Naw, just the
run-of-the-mill peasants. No story there.
Worse, the wife is, as we say, with child. Very much with child. Just what I
need. I hope she won't decide to have the baby tonight and ruin the rest of my
night with her screaming and carrying-on.
Nope, they seem to be settling down which is my cue to get some shut-eye for a
few hours. Maybe a little sleep will give me some fresh ideas or at least a new angle on an old idea. If I wake up in a couple of hours, I'll
still have time to put something together and deliver it to the scribes in time
for them to copy it out.
Luckily, there's a bright star shining in the heavens so I won't have to waste a
candle. Much as I dislike my brother-in-law, I wouldn't want to burn the barn
down, especially with me still in it. On the other hand, if I did start a fire,
at least that would give me my lead story.
Too bad nothing special ever happens in Bethlehem.
Harriet Cooper is a freelance humorist and essayist living in Toronto,
Canada. Her humor, essays, articles, short stories, and poetry have appeared in
newspapers, magazines, websites, newsletters, anthologies, radio, and a coffee
can. She specializes in writing about family, relationships, cats, psychology,
and health but has been known to try her writing hand at just about anything
except housework.
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