Smokey, Ladd, & Santa 2007

On Christmas Eve, Dad and I had just told each other our ritual "good night, I love you" followed by a brief overview of what the next day would entail. We then retired to our bedrooms. After talking to Danielle for about fifteen minutes on the phone, I heard dad's sensor alarm go off that he had placed just up the road to warn him when visitors were arriving. I still question his intentions for putting up the alarm, but he held strong to the argument that he didn't want strangers sneaking up on him. I personally attributed it to the midday naps that he would quickly arise from at the sound of the alarm as well as his recent addition of an uncovered outside shower. After the alarm went off I heard a car pull up and stop in front of the house, but thought nothing of it as Uncle Joe made frequent visits by the house. Then I began to hear the sound of a bell dinging similar to something you would hear entering J.C. Penny days before Christmas. I quickly jumped up and ran downstairs to identify the sound. I unlocked the door and stuck my head outside to find the motion light fixed on "Santa Clause." Santa began shouting "Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas" while still dinging what looked like a cow bell in one hand and holding a pint whiskey bottle in the other. By this time, dad had gotten out of bed and was right behind me in his bathrobe. He walked outside with his hands raised saying "Well, Ho Ho Ho to you Santa!! Look Ladd, Santa's come to visit us. What are you doing here already Santa?," in a loud friendly kind of way that made me think dad knew exactly who Santa was behind the costume. Santa responded, "Ho Ho Ho, You boys better get to bed or else Santa isn't coming to visit this year, Ho Ho Ho." "Okay Santa, but we were in bed," dad responded "Merry Christmas and Ho Ho Ho to you." Dad and Santa then proceeded to exchange a series of back and forth Merry Christmas and Ho Ho Hos. Dad turned around to walk inside with his typical child-like grin and mischievous eyes while Santa literally stumbled back to the passenger side of the a green Ford truck he rode in and took off. As dad closed the door and lock it, I asked "Who in the world was that?," assuming based on the dialogue that dad knew him. Dad just smiled and said "I don't have a damn clue, but that was one drunk Santa. You known Ladd, that's a bad Santa." We both laughed for a long time about "that ole' bad drunk Santa" coming to visit us on Christmas Eve. I don't know if dad ever found out who came to visit us in a Santa costume that night.