Curly’s Christmas

A Children's Story

Curly’s Christmas

It was Christmas Eve and there were many people rushing through the streets doing the last of their Christmas shopping. Amidst all this, and unaffected by the crowds as they darted about him, was Curly Watts.

Curly was a tramp and had been so by his own choosing for the greater part of his sixty year old life. There was to be no Christmas joy for Curly. There would not be any presents to give or receive. Neither would there be any turkey, roast potatoes or Brussel sprouts.

Tomorrow would be just a normal day. More normal, thought Curly, than for the rest of these mad fools.

It was bitterly cold and Curly still had far to go before reaching his tin-shack of a home. He put his hand into his pocket to see if he had enough money to buy a cup of tea. Alas no. Only four penny pieces, a foreign coin and a small can-opener.

So instead, he decided to go into a nearby main large store and warm himself up by their central heating.

Inside, the store was packed with more frenzied people. Curly struggled to find somewhere less crowded. Suddenly, he was pushed through a door marked ‘Storeroom’ and it was here that Curly found his solitude.

With great care, he slowly crawled behind some large boxes, sat down on a small pile of faulty clothing and soon, fell fast asleep.

When he awoke, it was pitch dark, and he fumbled his way back into the store again. Apart from the security lighting that was scattered about, there was no sign of anybody else in the store " except from himself.

Curly went from counter to counter, making his way to the main door. It was like being in Aladdin’s cave, there was everything that one could imagine.

He reached the main door. It was all very dark outside as all of the street lighting had been switched off. However much he tried, Curly could not prize open the doors. A nearby notice read, ‘Boxing Day Sale Starts 9am!’ 

This told poor Curly that he would have to remain locked in until that time.

He went into the cloakroom and began to wake himself up by washing his face in cold water.  He was wondering what to do to while away the hours, when suddenly a thought came to him.

“I know!” He said loudly to himself., “I’ll have a bath., and why not!” He continued as if trying to start an argument with himself., “It’s not my fault I was accidently locked in.., and if I am to be a prisoner here.., I might as well make myself a little more comfortable!”

Curly then set off to the hardware section, collected two plastic buckets and returned to the washroom to fill them up with hot water. From there, he made his journey to the bathroom section, and after several such same journeys " scurrying back and forth " he managed to fill one bath with hot water.

There was now no limit to Curly’s thinking, as he lay back in his bath, wearing no more than a wicked smile and a (borrowed), pink shower cap.

“I think I’ll try on some decent clobber afterwards.,” he muttered quietly to himself whilst elegantly sprinkling out bath salts. “I mean, can’t put on me old stuff., not now that I know I smell so nice!”

This Curly did. After his bath, he wrapped a towel about him and set off to the menswear department. He appeared again looking immaculate and unrecognisable. So much so, that he did not even recognise himself as he caught glimpse of his refection whilst passing a store mirror.

“I can explain everything.., “ he mumbled nervously, trying so hard to allow an explanation.

“Blimey! It’s my own reflection!” He cried out with such relief.

Then turning to a shop manikin, which was staring at him from a corner, he said,

“You must think I’m a bigger dummy than you are!”

It was here that Curly had yet another brain wave.

“I’ll make myself a nice home from home " I mean there’s plenty of furniture!”

This Curly did also. He found an area in the furnishing department that was separated by wooden partitions, giving an impression of a bedroom, a sitting room and a kitchen. Each room was well furnished with all the necessaries to complete the scene. The walls were papered and tiled, and each room had a mock window allowing a pictured view of a countryside.

This was fantastic to Curly, but it was still only the beginning. The more he saw from what he had achieved, the more his mind bubbled with thoughts of further delightful ideas.

The next morning, as the Christmas dawn broke, the full extent of Curly’s imagination could be appreciated. The dining room table was all laid out with red table mats and fine bone china.

There was even a silver candelabra and with all five candles burning.

But that was not all..,

There sat at each sitting, apart from at the head, were five shop dummies; two males and three females " and all dressed up in their finest evening attire. Curly had wandered around the store and politely invited each one around for a Christmas feast.

Curly returned to the scene. He had with him a wire shopping trolley loaded with more Christmas goodies. On the sideboard he put out fruits of all kinds. He did this by placing them in very expensive cut glass bowls. To the sideboard, he added bottles of wine, sherry and brandy. The remainder in his trolley mostly consisted of tinned foodstuff, cold snacks, chocolates and biscuits.

So there was Curly late that Christmas night " sat in a comfortable armchair and surrounded by six electric fires. This Christmas, he had given and surely received. He ate and drank to his heart’s content, and afterwards, he puffed away like an old steam train on some of the finest cigars.

Now Curly was tired.

And so, rudely  ignoring his most un-talkative guests, he switched off the television, set his alarm for 8am., and then retired happily to his ‘bedroom’.

Curly awoke long before his alarm was due to sound. Completely ignoring everything from the previous night, he hurriedly dressed back into his old garments and made his way to the front doors again. As he approached the doors, he heard the sound of jingling, and quickly dived behind the cigarette kiosk.

The door opened and in came a tall man in a dark suit.

Immediately the man noticed the disorder; the floor gangways were strewn with items and opened cartons. His concern towards the mess distracted him from re-locking the doors behind him. Poor Curly trembled as the sound of clicking heels and jingling keys drew nearer and nearer, as the man came closer and closer in his direction. There seemed to be no way out for Curly " he had had his Christmas feast, but now it was time for him to pay for it all.

Suddenly, there came a loud ringing sound from the floor above. The man turned on his heels and sped quickly up the stairway. It was Curly’s alarm clock  ringing out eight O’ clock " it was also Curly’s big chance to escape.

Curly dashed out of the main door and up the street. He ran and he ran, turning at every side street until he was well out of breath. He stopped, and with one hand leaning against a brick wall and the other on his chest, he puffed and panted trying to get his breath back.

After he had and was about to savour the moment " along came PC George Benson, who both knew each other so well.

“Hello Curly!” Said George heartedly. “Did you ‘ave a nice Christmas?”

“O’ not too bad..,” Replied Curly, fearing the worst., “It was quiet and peaceful.., and I had enough to eat and drink!”

“Poor ol’ Curly.,” The policeman muttered as he went on his way..,

“Poor ol’ Curly " what does he ever get from Christmas?”

Christine Peters