A Christmas Carol

23 December 2001

By Barney Vinson

With apologies to Charles Dickens and Clement Moore, Barney Vinsins tells his Christmas Carol in this installment of Barney VInson's World.
 
      `Twas the night before Christmas, and through each casino
In Vegas and Laughlin and Tahoe and Reno
      The stockings were hung by the lockers with cheer
In hopes that a genuine saint would appear
      Someone with a heart filled with kindness and such
Who would tip all the dealers; it wouldn't take much
      They stood at their tables, with heads almost bowed
But no saints appeared, just the usual crowd
      Why is it, they pondered, that things never change
The players at Christmas seem almost deranged
      It's though their own families have cast them aside
So they come to Nevada to spend their Yuletide
      Alas, that is all that they usually spend
And they wonder why no one regards them as friend
      For example, all tables were open this night
One player at each, and if that's not a fright
      Their banter was corny and irksome and lame
"Are you bored? Give me change, and I'll start up your game."
      So each person waited, his thoughts far away
For the long night to end and another new day
      "Jingle Bells" played on the overhead speaker
While the stale smell of smoke made each dealer's knees weaker
      There were trees in the corners all covered with light
That from a great distance looked just about right
      On closer inspection they lost their appeal
The branches were metal; wasn't anything real?
      The pit boss was dressed in a bright yellow coat
Blue trousers, white socks and orange tie at his throat
      He smiled as he said, "Good times are upon us."
Of course, he had gotten a nice Christmas bonus
      The others were grumbling, and most with good reason
They would get no days off through the holiday season
      But still there was something to make them feel perky
A gift for each worker: a big frozen turkey
      Just then there arose on the roof such a clatter
Guards sprang up the stairs to uncover the matter
      A call was relayed to security's chief
"You better get up here; we've caught us a thief."
      The chief dropped his coffee, proceeding with dread
No visions of sugar plums danced in his head
      He got to the roof and threw open the doors
His guards had their guns drawn, and down on all fours
      Was a fellow in red with a smile on his face
And fluffy white whiskers clear down to his waist
      A bag full of presents lay next to his side
While eight snorting reindeer stood venting their pride
      They were all strapped together and hooked to a sleigh
That couldn't have been more than two feet away
      "On your feet," cried the chief to the jolly old gnome
"And just why are you parked in a no-parking zone?"
      The man touched his cheek with a red-mittened hand
"I am Nicholas," he said, "and I come from a land
      Where Christmas is special and truly unique
And those who believe find the things that they seek."
      The chief fell to silence and took a step back
Saint Nick gave a grin as he opened his sack
      "Now there's something for each," he said with a roar
"And more for the people who work on the floor
      "The dealers, bartenders, pit clerks and cashiers
"The valet attendants, the maids and their peers
      "In fact, gifts for all except for this note
"That goes to the man in the bright yellow coat."
      With that, Saint Nick hopped in his very old sleigh
Preparing to go on his merry old way
      The chief scratched his head as he started to see
People opening presents and shouting with glee
      And then he remembered the note for the fellow
Who was wearing blue pants and a coat of bright yellow
      The pit boss approached him and said with a smirk
"Quit your loafing, you moron, and get back to work."
      The chief's eyes went wide and he started to stutter
He looked at the pit boss, his heart all aflutter
      The pit boss was dressed in a bright yellow coat
So the chief swallowed hard and gave him the note
      "This letter's for you," he said nice and slow
Then he raced to his desk for a shot of Old Crow
      The pit boss unfolded the small slip of paper
Was there money inside, or some magic vapor?
      All the others had got what they wanted and more
It was his turn to go through the mystical door
      With trembling fingers he opened the note
And that's when he started to moan and to choke
      For here's what it said, and the words were quite clear
"I'm sorry, but you get no presents this year."
      Beneath that was written the rest of the letter
"Be nice to your workers; next year might be better."
      Then a shout from above him as St. Nick took flight
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."