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Authors: Kevin Alan Milne
Tags: FIC043000
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which happened to be just loud enough for everyone to hear.
“An angel?” she scoffed. “With that bag she looks more like the Holy Ghost to me!”
Nearly everyone laughed. Even Nurse Wimble chuckled out loud at the ridiculous comment. Katrina’s eyes burned with humiliation as the crowd continued their shameless jeers. Here they all were practicing a pageant about Jesus Christ, yet completely ignoring the fact that they were behaving completely un-Christ-like.
Aaron, Madhu, and I stood helpless, wondering what else we could do to help our bag-headed friend out of this most cruel circumstance. Katrina turned, her shoulders slumped and shaking, and began to walk away. I turned to follow but was stopped by another voice yelling above the ruckus of the crowd.
“I quit!” It was a girl’s voice screaming at the top of her lungs. I turned back to the stage to see a beautiful girl standing beside the manger, yanking a pillow out from beneath her costume. Her name was Lynn, and she had been awarded the lead role of Mary, mother of Jesus. Her eyes were on fire, and I couldn’t help but notice how delightfully determined she was as she strode forward to face Nurse Wimble.
“I quit,” she said again, pulling the remainder of her costume over her head and tossing it at the feet of the director.
“But you can’t quit,” said Nurse Wimble. “You’re the only one who can manage to sing the solos.”
“Well that’s just too bad,” she said. “This hospital is supposed to be a place where we are all cared for, and where we look out for and support one another. I’m sick about the way you all treat Katrina, and I won’t stand for it anymore. If there is no room at the inn for her, then there is no room at the inn for me either.”
Katrina’s eyes glowed with gratitude and admiration as she stared up at Lynn. It was the first time another patient had stood up for her in public, and it gave her spirits a much needed boost.
“Very well,” said Nurse Wimble, breaking the silence. “If you’ll kindly put your costume back on, we can probably see fit to find a place for Katrina. Besides,” she backpedaled, “Aaron was right. We can never have too many angels. Katrina, you’ll join that group over there and they’ll tell you what to do. Alright?”
Katrina nodded with excitement.
“Now then,” she said through a forced smile, “let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?”
Surprisingly, everyone continued on as though nothing had happened. Once Katrina had been introduced to the angel chorus all else was forgotten.
I sat watching the practice for the remainder of the evening, which was more interesting than I had expected. The highlight of the rehearsal came when the innkeeper, played by a short redheaded boy with bright freckles, tripped on his own crutch while trying to walk and read his lines at the same time. He ended up landing on top of a little girl who was supposed to be a sheep in the stable. Fortunately no one was hurt. However, the little girl was nibbling on a sandwich while she waited for her scene to begin, and when the innkeeper fell, the sandwich was inadvertently hurled toward Mary and Joseph, who were hovering in awe over their baby-doll Jesus. Joseph took the brunt of the incident when one mustardy slice of bread hit him in the face and then slid off and dropped to his shoe. At the same time, a juicy piece of ham and the other slice of bread plopped squarely down on top of the doll in the middle of the manger.
Aaron, who was still chewing his empty corn dog stick, ad-libbed a quick line into his script.
“And when Mary and Joseph looked upon the babe in swaddling clothes,” he said in an artificially deep voice, “they saw that he was hungry, and they did feed him ham on rye.”
Everyone laughed. Everyone, that is, except Nurse Wimble.
Chapter 9
Yes . . . there is a Santa Claus . . . Thank God! He lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now . . . , nay ten times ten
“An angel?” she scoffed. “With that bag she looks more like the Holy Ghost to me!”
Nearly everyone laughed. Even Nurse Wimble chuckled out loud at the ridiculous comment. Katrina’s eyes burned with humiliation as the crowd continued their shameless jeers. Here they all were practicing a pageant about Jesus Christ, yet completely ignoring the fact that they were behaving completely un-Christ-like.
Aaron, Madhu, and I stood helpless, wondering what else we could do to help our bag-headed friend out of this most cruel circumstance. Katrina turned, her shoulders slumped and shaking, and began to walk away. I turned to follow but was stopped by another voice yelling above the ruckus of the crowd.
“I quit!” It was a girl’s voice screaming at the top of her lungs. I turned back to the stage to see a beautiful girl standing beside the manger, yanking a pillow out from beneath her costume. Her name was Lynn, and she had been awarded the lead role of Mary, mother of Jesus. Her eyes were on fire, and I couldn’t help but notice how delightfully determined she was as she strode forward to face Nurse Wimble.
“I quit,” she said again, pulling the remainder of her costume over her head and tossing it at the feet of the director.
“But you can’t quit,” said Nurse Wimble. “You’re the only one who can manage to sing the solos.”
“Well that’s just too bad,” she said. “This hospital is supposed to be a place where we are all cared for, and where we look out for and support one another. I’m sick about the way you all treat Katrina, and I won’t stand for it anymore. If there is no room at the inn for her, then there is no room at the inn for me either.”
Katrina’s eyes glowed with gratitude and admiration as she stared up at Lynn. It was the first time another patient had stood up for her in public, and it gave her spirits a much needed boost.
“Very well,” said Nurse Wimble, breaking the silence. “If you’ll kindly put your costume back on, we can probably see fit to find a place for Katrina. Besides,” she backpedaled, “Aaron was right. We can never have too many angels. Katrina, you’ll join that group over there and they’ll tell you what to do. Alright?”
Katrina nodded with excitement.
“Now then,” she said through a forced smile, “let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?”
Surprisingly, everyone continued on as though nothing had happened. Once Katrina had been introduced to the angel chorus all else was forgotten.
I sat watching the practice for the remainder of the evening, which was more interesting than I had expected. The highlight of the rehearsal came when the innkeeper, played by a short redheaded boy with bright freckles, tripped on his own crutch while trying to walk and read his lines at the same time. He ended up landing on top of a little girl who was supposed to be a sheep in the stable. Fortunately no one was hurt. However, the little girl was nibbling on a sandwich while she waited for her scene to begin, and when the innkeeper fell, the sandwich was inadvertently hurled toward Mary and Joseph, who were hovering in awe over their baby-doll Jesus. Joseph took the brunt of the incident when one mustardy slice of bread hit him in the face and then slid off and dropped to his shoe. At the same time, a juicy piece of ham and the other slice of bread plopped squarely down on top of the doll in the middle of the manger.
Aaron, who was still chewing his empty corn dog stick, ad-libbed a quick line into his script.
“And when Mary and Joseph looked upon the babe in swaddling clothes,” he said in an artificially deep voice, “they saw that he was hungry, and they did feed him ham on rye.”
Everyone laughed. Everyone, that is, except Nurse Wimble.
Chapter 9
Yes . . . there is a Santa Claus . . . Thank God! He lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now . . . , nay ten times ten
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