“Mister S-u-g-e-r-l-a-n-d, how would you like to be Santa Claus at The Westside Wonder Mall?”
Tom looked at her and thought to himself, “Are you fucking nuts lady?"Or at least, Tom thought he said it to himself.
“Mister S-u-g-e-r-l-a-n-d, I don’t appreciate such profanity… especially aimed at me. You can just leave if you don’t care for my professional services?”
“I apologize, Mrs. Dollo. That just came out of my mouth.”
“You have that turrets syndrome, do you?” Mrs. Dollo said sarcastically.
Mrs. Dollo just looked at Tom, giving him her evil eye.
“No. Not at all.”
“I don’t need that kind of disrespect, Mister S-u-g-e-r-l-a-n-d… especially after I gave you that compliment on how pretty your hair is.”
“And I appreciate that Mrs. Dollo, and all the time you’ve taken… I just thought you were serious for a second.”
“I was.”
“Excuse me, but Santa Claus is fat and jolly... and old?"
Tom thought certainly he wasn't old enought to play fucking Santa Claus?
Tom thought certainly he wasn't old enought to play fucking Santa Claus?
“I know that. Look, The Westside Wonder Mall lost their regular Santa Claus. Their desperate for someone right now. Thanksgiving's next week… and the day after Thanksgiving is Black Friday… "
Tom’s still was not getting her reasoning for him being Santa Claus.
"The number one shopping day of the year... look all you do... is ask the kids what they want for Christmas? Then take picture with them... simple. Look you know and I know that, you’re not fat, or jolly for that matter. But you do have the right color hair. Just don’t shave your beard, I bet it grows pretty fast. I bet you’d be a good Santa.”
Tom’s still was not getting her reasoning for him being Santa Claus.
"The number one shopping day of the year... look all you do... is ask the kids what they want for Christmas? Then take picture with them... simple. Look you know and I know that, you’re not fat, or jolly for that matter. But you do have the right color hair. Just don’t shave your beard, I bet it grows pretty fast. I bet you’d be a good Santa.”
Tom laughs.
“You’re really serious, I thought you were joking… but you’re really, really serious about this job.”
“They'd take a Chinese Santa Claus right about now… six weeks... easy money. You like kids don’t you?”
Tom thought; I like them maybe sprinkled with some Tabasco
“I really appreciate all your help---
“Mister S-u-g-e-r-l-a-n-d just go down there at check it out… I’m sure that there worse ways to make a few bucks?”
Tom thought, well I’m sure she’s right about that. But at this moment he couldn’t think of any? So, he thought what the hell… he didn’t have anything else to do that afternoon… and no other job prospects, and he certainly didn’t know Photoshop.
Then Mrs. Dollo starred at him real good and said, “Mister S-u-g-e-r-l-a-n-d, anybody ever tell you that you look like that actor… the one who plays them cowboys… the one with the real deep voice. Sam… Sam Elliott?”
Tom had been told that a few times… especially since his hair went gray. Truth was, he had copped the way he tied back his hair from Sam Elliott in the movie, Road House.
“Yeah, once or twice,” he said.
“I think that white man is damn sexy… oh, did I say just say that out loud?”
Mrs. Dollo giggled and turned back to her computer screen.
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