The Jingle Bell Pepper

    The Jingle Bell Pepper was originally cultivated atop the Matterhorn by the Chrisquanchmo people.  For years the they lived in dug-out caves at the summit of the mountain, relying on the little sustenance they could find in such a harsh environment.  One day every week for years, they would spend climbing down the mountain to gather wood to heat their caves.  Unless they could find a grub or two crawling through the wood, they were left to scavenge the bare summit.  At best they could scrounge up a lousy Matterhorn muskrat here or there, but usually it was bitter snow-beetle soup to stave off the hunger.  The only thing that made sipping the crushed up beetles bearable was the sweet summit snow.  Eating the snow raw was fine, but it was cold enough at the top of the mountain, so melting it down to a broth was preferred.

Centuries of living this way would eventually lead to the cultivation of something new.  As Switzerland became more and more populated, their farming techniques gave way to new varieties of produce.  One notable crop that arose from the Swiss innovation was the Swissmas pepper.  Like many countries were doing at the time, the Swiss also wanted to establish their national pepper.  It had to be something that truly showed off their Christmas spirit.  Their efforts yielded a green pepper with red splotches covering the surface.  When plucked it gave a crunchy jangle to it, and the flavor was no better than it’s sound.  For several years the Swiss would try to perfect this pepper, but were never able to.  Finally, with more important matters taking precedence, they abandoned their efforts of creating a national pepper.  To make room for more successful crops, they reaped every pepper from their vines and discarded them.  Such an abomination required a special place for disposal.  A place where few would ever find them.

The farmers hauled every last Swissmas pepper in carts up the mountains en masse.  It was a perilous journey, and they quickly realized the carts were not quite suited for the terrain.  They took off the wheels, and reusing the handles as poles they carried the peppers the rest of the way through the mountains in makeshift litters.  Eventually, the farmers reached far enough into the mountain range where they felt comfortable disposing of the peppers.  Briefly resting in the shade of the Matterhorn, the farmers were relieved to have relinquished their burden.  Now rid of the Swissmas peppers, Switzerland could focus on moving forward as a country.

The following week, like usual, the Chrisquanchmo people descended down the mountain to collect their supplies.  As they scavenged for wood, and any berries or greens they could eat, they found the mound of peppers.  Luckily for them they were used to eating unappetizing meals, so the bitter flavor didn’t bother them.  This new, temporary source of sustenance would last them several months, though it did mean making several extra trips a week.

The Chrisquanchmo people ate these peppers for months, discarding the seeds and stems along the summit as they pleased.  Winter came along, and the further drop in temperature signaled to them to begin hibernating.  This time of year, the Chrisquanchmo would always begin to hear singing near the base of the mountain.  The Swissmas carols gently lulled them to sleep as they nestled into their caves, not waking until Spring.  Likewise, the Swissmas pepper seeds settled into the sweet summit snow, ready to sprout when the first warm days would come.

With this added nutrition in the Chrisquanchmo diet, their hibernation was far less difficult than usual.  Dreams of Swissmas Past filled their minds as their loud snoring rumbled through their dug-out caves.  Now and then the tremors would cause small avalanches down the mountain, which is why the Matterhorn is notoriously dangerous to climb in the winter.  Mountaineers tend to fear the rumbling noises they’ve heard coming from the summit, and the avalanches are only an added reason not to attempt climbing it.

Eventually the cold would subside, making way for Spring’s warmth.  The ice throughout the region would begin melting, and all forms of life would emerge from their slumber.  The Crisquanchmo were no exception.  They tiptoed out from their caves, wary of any mountaineers that might have ventured up during their hibernation.  There were none in sight, however what met their eyes as they emerged was something they’d never seen before.  Specs of green dotted the mountain summit.

Not sure what to think of the verdant invasion, they left it alone for the time being, and began their descent to collect supplies for the week.  Spring was always the best for them.  Food was abundant at the base of the mountain, so they would always get their fill before returning.

For several weeks the Chrisquanchmo made their trip, and every time they returned to the summit, the green specs had grown.  Upon returning one day, they noticed the green specs were no longer just green.  Small red dots appeared on the bulb that had formed.

As it grew warmer in the year, some of the sweet summit snow melted, and the Chrisquanchmo watched the red and green bulbs grow.  They were no longer little dots, but nearly the size of a snow-beetle, and looked like a prettier form of the Swissmas peppers they had eaten before hibernating.  They were slightly pointed at one end, and they noticed the red dots would shine when viewed at some angles.  As they walked among the mountain top, the bulbs would make a pleasant jingling noise when touched.  The Chrisquanchmo grew quite fond of these strange things, and found them to be harmless.  

    As the year headed into the middle of summer, the food at the base of the mountain was less available, so they began to revert to their old diet of snow-beetle soup.  However, one of the Chrisquanchmo people, named Saintnickshmo, noticed the resemblance of these bulbs to the Swissmass peppers.  Longing for the change of taste again, Saintnickshmo decided to pluck one of the bulbs and eat it.

    The sensation that swept through his body as he bit into the pepper was something he had never experienced before.  The flavor was warm and leaped through his mouth, crackling occasionally.  From his mouth, the feeling  spread through the rest of his body, warming him to the core.  His vision gave way to a tunnel of green and red, and he heard Swissmas carols gradually echo louder and louder through his head.

             After a minute or so, the sensation faded and Saintnickshmo’s vision returned.  Everything seemed so clear atop the mountain now.  The glare of the sun's reflection required no squinting like usual.

             He walked back to the caves in a state of contentment.  The rest of the Chrisquanchmo could tell something was different about Saintnickshmo.  They asked him what happened, and he simply pointed to the peppers.  Curious, the other members picked their own peppers one by one and soon experienced the same sensation Saintnickshmo had just minutes before.  Moments later, the entirety of the Chrisquanchmo people stood atop the summit of the Matterhorn, completely overtaken by the sound of Swissmas carols ringing throughout their minds.  It was so powerful that Saintnickshmo, no longer affected by the pepper, soon heard a chorus of Swissmas carols being sung by his very own people.  He had never heard something so beautiful.

    The effects soon wore off and the Chrisquanchmo stood in amazement at the new cultivation.  Unsure of what to think, they decided to rest for the night.  They had never slept so well in their lives, and when they woke up, they stood outside their caves and pondered what to do with the rest of the peppers.  Saintnickshmo picked up one of the stems lying on the ground, and noticed seeds still hanging from where the pepper was bitten off.  As he picked it up, he heard the same jingling produced as when they walked through the peppers.  It was the seeds that produced the sound.  They looked like small jingle bells.  Saintnickshmo then picked up one of the old, half-eaten Swissmas peppers they’d brought up from the base of the mountain.  He noticed the seeds of this pepper were crinkly, and produced the unpleasant jangle they heard carrying the peppers up the mountain.

    Thanks to the Matterhorn’s sweet summit snow, what the Chrisquanchmo had brought home as a mediocre dietary addition, had evolved into a fantastic edible delight.  For months following this discovery, the Chrisquanchmo ate these peppers with everything.  Snow-beetle and pepper soup became their favorite dish.  Pepper-stuffed muskrat was often served as well.

It was a perfect relationship.  The Chrisquanchmo would discard the pepper stems, and in turn the pepper seeds would sprout new pepper plants.  They became the only staple crop to ever exist atop the Matterhorn.  After some time, they found themselves with more peppers than they were able to use themselves.

The Swiss people noticed the summit of their beloved mountain changing color and decided to investigate.  They assembled their finest mountaineers, and began conditioning them both physically and mentally.  The physical work would be easy; they’d done this plenty of times before.  What scared them the most was avalanches, and whatever made the rumbling noises during the winter.

After weeks of preparation, the Swiss climbing team embarked on their perilous journey.  For hours they hiked through the mountain range, surmounting any obstacle that stood in their way.  Eventually they reached the base of their target, and sat down to rest before beginning their long climb upward.  Looking up they could see the green was much more vibrant, and covered nearly all of the snow.

Once fully rested, with ice picks and rope in hand, they took their first steps up.  It was a long and strenuous journey, one that only the fittest could endure.  After six grueling hours of the treacherous conditions, though, they arrived at the summit.  Before they could even stop and take a breath, what little air they did have was swept away at what they saw.  Peppers stretched across the snow in front of them, all the way to the peak, and cut off immediately by the sky behind them.

Distracted by this initial sight, they failed to see the many heads pop out of the nearby caves.  The Chrisquanchmo slowly approached the mountaineers, and startled them in doing so.  They didn’t expect to find people living on top of the mountain.  What the climbers had prepared extensively for, these people seemed to have done with ease.  Once the initial shock faded, Saintnickshmo cautiously proceeded forward to inspect the newcomers.

The peppers jingled as his legs brushed by.  Before he reached them, he thought to pick some of the peppers to offer the mountaineers.  He gestured to them to come forward and try them.  Not sensing any harm from these people, the Swiss men accepted their offering, and all at once bit into the mysterious food.

Saintnickshmo and the rest of the Chrisquanchmo watched as the Swiss climbers stared up into the sky in euphoria.  Shortly they returned, and in their content state they joined the Chrisquanchmo in the caves for snow-beetle soup.  After sharing stories for hours, everyone eventually fell asleep.  The summit shook to the tremors of the snoring Chrisquanchmo, but the Swiss climbers had nothing to fear.

They stayed on the mountain for several days, learning about the Chrisquanchmo people and their culture.  Realizing they had a surplus of peppers on the mountain, the Swiss asked to bring some back home with them.  They were happy to offer the Swiss as many peppers as they wanted to bring back.  The climbers filled their packs until full before saying their goodbyes and departing.  Before they could bid Saintnickshmo farewell, though, he decided to join them on their return trip as a guide.

Traveling down the mountain was much less threatening with Saintnickshmo at their side.  They arrived at the base in under an hour after following the path the Chrisquanchmo had taken for years before.  He followed them back to their hometown and they were greeted with a tremendous ceremony.

The mountaineers told their people of the adventure, and explained why the mountain top was now green.  Upon finishing their story, they unveiled the peppers they had brought home, and curiosity ensued among the crowd.  They passed the peppers out to everyone, and like on the summit, the congregation fell into a trance after eating them.  Swissmas carols echoed out from the dinner table as everyone felt the peppers warmth sweep over them.

As the Swiss people came out of their trance, though in a contented state, they were amazed that a pepper could do such a thing.  They asked Saintnickshmo what kind of pepper they had just eaten, and he sat quietly for several moments.  He’d never called them anything in particular, so he had no name to give them.  After pondering for a short time, though, he answered their question.  Naturally, Saintnickshmo decided to call it “The Jingle Bell Pepper.”

.    .    .

    To this day the Swiss and the Chrisquanchmo have a strong relationship, with much thanks to Saintnickshmo for serving as liaison between the two.  The Swiss buy Jingle Bell Peppers and export them all over the world.  This gives the Chrisquanchmo a stable income, and means to a life that consists of more than snow-beetle soup. They’ve also learned how to use old pepper vines as fuel for their fires, saving them several trips every month.

    What began as an attempt to show the rest of the world the amount of Christmas spirit in Switzerland, ended up as a gift the whole world now enjoys.

Christmas Cristina and the Homeless Hamburger

     Cristina got up from her desk, packed up her things and headed for the door. “Christmas Eve” she groaned taking the keys out from her purse, and locking the door to Vienna Employment Company, where she’s worked for the past two years. She thought of everyone heading home, presents wrapped and preparing for Christmas morning. "Why does it still feel like the magic is gone?” Cristina wondered as her tummy rumbled. “I guess it has been several hours since I ate.”
As dusk approached, there was little hope of finding any place to eat open on Christmas Eve. Luckily for Cristina, the bratwurst stand at the corner of her block hadn't completely closed down for the night. She walked swiftly to the man running the stand, with nearly a hop between every other step.
    “Oh Friedrich! Are you still open?” Cristina exclaimed.
    “Ah Ms. Cristina, just in time, I have one more bratwurst just for you!” Friedrich said in his loving, yet harsh German accent.
    “Oh wonderful, I’m starving!” she replied.
    Friedrich prepared the last of his inventory for the night, but paused momentarily to ask “I have a new variety of peppers. Care to try? They’re a special import grown at the top of the Matterhorn!”
    Cristina, three time champion of the Vienna pepper liking contest, couldn’t resist the offer. “Of course, I’d love to try the peppers! Oh, but they must be expensive if they come from the Matterhorn?”
    “Ah Ms. Cristina, for you, especially on Christmas Eve, no charge!” Friedrich replied as he handed her the pepper-topped brat.
    These Matterhorn-grown peppers were no ordinary peppers, though. They were jingle-bell peppers. They were green in color and had spots of red fluorescing along the surface, and when listened to closely, the echoes of the mountain’s nearby Swiss Christmas carols, Swissmas carols some might say, ring throughout the pepper’s chamber. The seeds resemble small bells, and when shaken produce a merry jingling . Their flavor is sweet with a sudden pop of intense heat that propagates like lightning across the palette.
    Cristina grabbed the brat, yearning to satiate her hunger from the long day. “Thank you Friedrich, Merry Christmas!”
    “And a Merry Christmas to you too!” she heard him reply faintly as she made her way down the street.
There was a light fog in the air, dimming the street lights as she walked home. Her breath met the steam of the special brat, melding with the fog of the evening as it drifted away. She was now alone on the street, with only her leery Christmas thoughts to accompany her. “That was nice of Friedrich to give me this brat” she thought. After a moment, her prior contemplations returned. “Everyone spends so much time preparing for the day and then suddenly it’s over, and back to the daily grind. Why even bother with it all?”
Cristina turned down the alley so she wouldn’t need to pass the Christmas lights adorning the village shops; they’d only increase her anxiety about the season. Stuck in her thoughts, she nearly forgot about the brat she’d been holding this whole time. “Let’s see how this brat is with the special peppers on it!” she thought, leaving her concerns to expel the hunger. The pepper-covered brat snapped in place between the roll where her teeth sank in, and the juices spurted out, pooling in the cardboard tray from one end, and dripping down her chin from the other. The flavor alone was enough to make her stop and savor it, but what happened next she was not prepared for.
The initial sweetness of the pepper brought a slight pucker to her mouth, a flavor she couldn’t find words to describe, working in perfect unison with the brat to make a purely satisfying bite. A red glow emanated from her cheeks as the the peppers fluoresced, and slowly the sweetness faded. Gradually Swissmas music rang in her ears, seemingly from the inside out; it was a sensation she had, like the flavor, never experienced before. It started softly, but as the heat overcame all remnants of other flavor in her mouth, the music grew louder and louder, and her palette grew hotter and hotter! She couldn’t call it spicy, though. No it was a warm, slightly fuzzy heat that radiated through her body, ousting the winter chill from every inch of her bones. This was truly a different kind of pepper.
    Suddenly it was all gone. The flavor, the music, and the warmth all left her in the evening chill. She continued on down the alley pondering what had just happened. As she made her way, Cristina began to notice something. It wasn’t clear at first what it was, but something was different. Was it lighter out? She looked at her watch and it seemed to blare the digits 7:15 at her. “It’s definitely evening” she thought, “but why does everything look clearer, and almost brighter?” Unsure of what to make of it, Cristina pushed the thought aside making her way home, letting her ruminations about Christmas creep back in,
    The truth is, she may not have been able to feel the effects of the peppers anymore, but their effects remained lingering. The intensity of the peppers left her eyes quite dilated, enabling her to see much clearer in the foggy evening.
Cristina made her way home down the alley, her feet occasionally scuffing the film of snow that formed as it began flurrying. As the light from the town grew dim, she thought she began hearing things. Faint rustling seemed to make it’s way out from in front of her. Though it was dark, the pepper-induced dilation of her eyes allowed her to see much clearer than she’d normally be able to. All she saw, though, was the garbage bin lined alley. The street was increasingly turning whiter. “I should hurry home” Cristina thought anxiously.
Her pace quickened and she now left full footprints behind every step. The bite of the wind was no longer just a nip. She could faintly see the lights from the other side of the alley as she came closer to the end. “Maybe taking a shortcut wasn’t the best idea. Oh well, almost through” She continued in her head as she held the quickly cooling brat in one hand and bundled herself with the other.
The chilly draft and loose traction made her walk understandably unpleasant at this point, but the feeling of holding a now soggy cardboard tray with a half-eaten bratwurst, and the icy chill the juice brought to her fingertips as the wind blew was beginning to make her trip home plain awful. “I’d better throw this out” she thought. Cristina approached the next closest trash can, brat in hand and ready to dispose of. She began opening the lid, tossing the brat in at the same time. Before she could even open it halfway, a foot smacked her square in the face. “What the frost!” she exclaimed, gripping her nose with her left hand and the wrist of her right hand. Amidst what just happened she couldn’t think clearly enough to let go of her dinner.
“Oh I’m so sorry!” cried a nasally voice, seemingly through a pinched throat. “Please forgive me, I was looking for something to eat and my foot must have slipped. . . Are you going to eat that?” The voice asked. Cristina, still gripping her nose with her eyes clenched shut, just trying to compose herself, held her other hand out thoughtlessly. “Thanks!’ the voice cried as she felt her wrists enveloped by something uncomfortably moist and lukewarm.
“What was that!” she cried out, her eyes clearing up.
“I thought you were giving it to me” the voice replied, with it’s mouth now full.
“Bu why is your hand so greasy!” Cristina cried.
“Oh I used my mouth, sorry I forget you humans eat with your hands!” the voice apologized.
Cristina looked toward the voice, and in double vision she saw a very round man. As her vision pulled together, she strained and gave a double take.
“What the holly was in those peppers” she said in shock.
“I thought those were jingle-bell peppers I tasted!” the voice interjected.
“Y-You’re a hamburger!” Cristina stuttered.
“Of course, haven’t you ever seen a hamburger before?” the hamburger replied, as he fixed his broken-through top hat back upon his top bun.
“Of course I have but not a. . . How can you talk?!” She exclaimed
    Swallowing, the hamburger cut her off immediately asking “what brings you down this alley? I don’t see many people come by here, especially on Christmas Eve?”
    “I was walking home from work. How the holly can you talk. . .”
    “Working this late on Christmas Eve? Don’t you have presents to wrap? Oh! You must be one of those extremely prepared people, good for you!”
    “No I’m not doing presents this year, I just want it be over and things back to normal”
    “Over!? Christmas is the most magical time of the year, look how joyful everyone is.”
              “Everyone is joyful because they know they're getting presents, and I can't believe I'm actually taking to a hamburger…”
              “But Christmas isn't about the presents, it's about being with the ones you love, and showing the people in your life that you care about them!”
              “And what about all the advertisements and pressure to spend money on things for everyone? ”
              “ Young woman. . . Ah I don't believe I caught your name?”
              “Cristina.” she replied
              “ A pleasure to meet you Cristina! I'm Harold. Now back to what I was saying. What's wrong with giving gifts once a year? What better time to reflect on the year, and share tokens of love and friendship? Isn't that what presents are after all?”
              “Well all I see is people spending their life savings on unnecessary things because they feel they have to.”
              “Perhaps it'd be better to show you. If you'll come with me?” Harold beckoned.
              “I really should get home, it's getting late” Cristina replied as she looked at her watch. It was 7:30 now.
              “It won't take long at all, please come with me and I'll show you that you can care about those in your life without spending your life savings!”
              Hardly able to resist the offer of such a convincing hamburger, Cristina grabbed Harold’s hand and began to follow. They took off at a brisk walk, and shortly quickened to a jog. Almost to the end of the alley, they were running full speed when Harold lifted his top bun, grabbed his slice of cheese, flung it forward and yelled “jump!” Cristina leapt forward and landed flat on the still-warm cheese slice, gripping it firmly as to avoid falling off. Harold stood triumphantly next to her, gazing forward, his lettuce flapping in the wind. “Onward to our first destination!” he exclaimed.
    “Oh my gingerbread, are we flying?” Cristina shouted. They were soaring high above the rooftops, and the wind made it difficult to hear.
    “Of course we’re flying! Walking would take forever, and I told you it wouldn’t take long.”
    They came upon their first stop of the night, gently gliding down the the window of a small home in the older part of town. They looked in through the window and saw a man nodded off to sleep. His daughter was nestled on his lap.
    “Rob Ratchet and his daughter Little Lilly” said Harold.
    “Aw that’s cute!” Cristina replied. Shortly after, she noticed a slightly rusted, oil-covered prosthetic leg lying against the armrest . “Oh no! What happened to her leg?”
    “Little Lilly was only born with one leg” Harold explained. “Her father has been taking home scrap parts from the auto shop since she was born, so he could put together a new prosthetic leg for her as she grew.  It’s nothing spectacular, but it works enough to give her some mobility.”
    “That’s so sweet of him!”
    “Isn’t it? Every Christmas he builds her a new one. The parts are a few years old by car standards, but for this use they’re brand new! It should be interesting to see what improvements he makes this year!”
    “Yeah that’s impressive, he’s quite talented!”
“Now, does it look like Rob is spending his life savings on presents for Christmas?”
    “No, he’s using the gifts he already has to bring joy to his daughter.” Cristina answered.
    “Exactly! I doubt he even has much life savings to give. Still, he gives what he can, as best he can, and look how it’s impacted her life! Now we’d better move on to our next location.”
    With a flap of the cheese they were off, soaring on towards the wealthier part of town. Below they could see ornate wreaths adorning every door and window of the homes, and lights strung beautifully along every property. They arrived at a large house, and they could hear murmuring from inside as they approached this home’s window sill. As they gazed inside at the elaborate festivities taking place, Cristina immediately commented on the party's extravagance.
    “These people look like they’ve spent more than a life’s savings on this party. This is exactly the kind of stuff I’m talking about, and it’s not just the people at the party!” exclaimed Cristina.
              “Look closer” Harold replied.
In the center of the room, between the double staircase stood a giant Christmas tree. It glimmered from every angle with white and gold, and subtle hints of red. In front of it stood a huge platform with various items organized in sections about it's surface.
             “Every year mayor McMnally hosts this party to collect items for those in need. From the very basics like food, water and toiletries to sophisticated items like new heaters or wheelchairs for those that need them but can't afford them.”
             “That is generous of them.” Cristina said humbly. She gazed at everything they had collected. Off to one side was enough food for hundreds of families, and countless toothbrushes and toothpaste tubes. As she looked across she indeed saw heaters and air conditioning units provided by Mr. Hott, and wheelchairs, prosthetics and other mobility assisting technology provided by Dr. Meander. One stood out among the rest; it looked like a new model prosthetic leg.
             “Sure they throw an extravagant party” Harold began, interrupting Cristina's awe, “but what they do for the community is incomparable. These are all people who have plenty more to give, and they do exactly that, by helping those who need it as best they can.”
    They gently retreated from the window, and the winds that were blowing earlier had died down. The cheese fluttered softly as they soared; it was the only thing to break the silence of Cristina’s pondering. She couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't seen this side of Christmas before. “That was so kind of them to collect those donations, why do we never hear about things like that?” She thought.
             Harold, aware of what she was thinking, commented “people do kind things like this all the time you know. Not necessarily so grandiosely, but even throughout the rest of the year, people are always being kind to one another.”
             “Then why do we only see greed and people being hurt over money?” Cristina replied.
             “Well what are you trying to see? Are you looking for the good deeds of others? Or are you sitting back and accepting what you hear from others to be the truth?”
             Cristina sat in silence, once again pondering what the hamburger had taught her.
             As they began to descend, they flew right over Vienna Employment Company, but Cristina failed to notice as she was still deep in thought. Moments later they arrived at their final destination for the night. It was about a mile down the road from where Cristina worked. The flapping cheese slowed and the change in movement awoke Cristina from her thoughts. She recognized where they were and was slightly defeated after walking so far towards her home.
    “Ugh I was almost home and now we’re a mile past where I work, in the wrong direction!” complained Cristina.
    “You know we’ll be flying back right?” Harold replied.
    “I know, but I had made so much progress!”
    Harold rolled his eyes as they came down to a small, very worn cottage. The smell of German cuisine filled their noses as they approached the house. They settled down once more to peer through a final window. Cristina immediately recognized her friendly neighborhood bratwurst vendor, Friedrich.
             “Friedrich!” She squealed, restraining the tail end of her comment so as not to disturb the inhabitants.
             “Another batch ready for cooking, Helga!” They could hear from inside.
             “Wonderful!” Replied the woman, presumably named Helga. “ We'll be cooking all night if it stays this cold.”
             “That only means more bratwurst for me to sell, and better means for us to get by” he replied in his endearingly harsh German accent.
             “I still wish we didn't have to continuously cook bratwurst all night through the winter just to heat our house…” Helga complained. “When can we buy a new heater, Friedrich?”
             “Keep the bratwurst coming, and we'll have a new one in no time!” He replied, hiding the pain it caused him not to be able to afford the new heater Helga asks about every winter. Friedrich always did maintain a good attitude. Still, even the best attitude can only make bratwurst vending go so far.
             “Oh poor Friedrich, he works all day selling bratwurst and he still can't afford to heat his home properly!” cried Cristina.
             “Do you see how he maintains his positive attitude? Even in difficult times, he brings joy to Helga, and that itself is a gift” said Harold.
             “Every day I see him and I've never suspected a thing, he always seems so happy.”
             “And he is happy! You can still be happy in difficult times, it all depends on your outlook!”
             Cristina once again fell silent, and stared at the joyful couple inside.
             “Now then, it's getting late, and can we need to fly you home. Take my hand Cristina” said Harold, reaching out with his burger hand.
             Cristina grabbed his tattered glove, and burger juice squished out as she did. His fingers still poked through, and she did her best to avoid them, however, after this evening she was used to a little burger juice.
    They ascended from the cottage window and began their flight to Cristina’s home. Looking down Cristina gave a disinterested grimace as they passed Vienna Employment Company. They soared over the rest of town, eventually swooping down through the alley where they first met. What seemed like all night had really been only an hour or so, and as they glided down to Cristina’s apartment, Harold spoke to her as the wise sage that only a talking hamburger could speak as.
    “Do you see now what the true meaning of Christmas is?”
    “Yes, I believe I do Harold” replied Cristina. “It has nothing to do with spending money! Everyone we’ve seen tonight has only displayed giving of their time, talents, resources or even just themselves.”
    “Exactly! So don’t get caught up with what you hear around town. Know what you have, and give what you can.”
    “I can’t believe I’ve had such a different view this whole time. Thank you for showing me the true meaning of Christmas!”
    “Of course Cristina, it is my job after all! Now I’m afraid to say, this is where I leave you” Harold said, returning Cristina to her apartment. “You’ve been a wonderful guest on this journey, and I hope we may meet again soon. Until then. . .”
    The cheese began to flutter swiftly, rising Harold up into the sky. Cristina gazed up, watching him disappear into the night. “Merry Christmas!” she heard him say before losing sight of him for good.
    Cristina turned around and unlocked her door. She didn’t realize how tired she was until now, and dropping her things in the foyer, headed straight for the couch. She grabbed a blanket and dozed off to sleep.

.    .    .
Cristina awoke to the church bells ringing in the distance. It was Christmas morning, and she just laid there thinking back to the night before.
    “What a dream” she thought to herself. “Those peppers must have had something in them…”
    Still, in a much better mood than she expected to be on Christmas morning, Cristina decided to go to the Vienna Christmas Parade. It’s a tradition for the town, and most people go. She was feeling in the mood to see people today, so naturally it would be the best place to be. Some fresh air would be nice as well; her tummy again felt rumbly, but this time it wasn’t from hunger. The peppers she ate did not agree with her this morning.
    Cristina tied her shoes and put on her jacket. As the door close behind her she felt the snow that fell the night before crunch under her feet. “That’s a holly of a good sound” she thought. The parade took place a few blocks down from where she worked, and as she went on her way she recalled her dream. She decided to go down the alley and see what it was like this Christmas morning.
    A few people were putting their garbage in the outdoor bin of their homes as she walked by. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. “I guess it was all just a dream” she thought to herself. About halfway down, she noticed one of the garbage bins was open. Being in the good mood she was, she went to close it for the neighbor. As went to do so, she remembered this was the bin she intended to throw her bratwurst away in. She peered inside, and to her surprise, she did not see any bratwurst. “A racoon must have gotten in here” she thought again, though failing to see any racoon prints in the snow. She pushed the thought out of her mind, closed the bin and went on her way.
    As Cristina neared the parade route, she could hear the intense music that always accompanies the parade. Blaring trumpets, thundering timpanis and squealing electric guitars grew louder and louder as she came closer. Soon enough she was walking through the townspeople, and a boisterous crowd had formed along either side of the route, all quaking with excitement for the coming parade. There were a few minutes left, and now that she’d gotten some fresh air, she felt the all-too-familiar rumble of her tummy telling her it’s time to get some food. “I have just enough time” Cristina thought, as she peered through the crowd, looking for some sign of food.
    Before she knew it, like deja vu, she smelled the German cuisine that had satiated her hunger just the night before. “What caused the craziness of last night can surely settle it this morning” she thought to herself wishfully. “Friedrich!” Cristina cried out. “Oh Friedrich, Merry Christmas, it’s wonderful to see you! How are you this morning?”
    “Ah Ms. Cristina, Merry Christmas to you too! I’m doing wonderfully. I woke up to the most generous surprise. Someone left a brand new heater for our home on the doorstep last night! Ours has been broken for years and we just haven’t been able to replace it yet.”
    “Oh that’s generous indeed! There must be more kind people around here than we notice.”
    “There must be!” Friedrich replied. “How did you like those jingle bell peppers?” he asked with anticipation.
    “Oh they were fantastic! I do think they were a little intense for me, though.”
    “I’m sure you had quite an interesting night then?”
    “Um. . . yes I did. I had the strangest dream. They tasted delicious though, thank you for letting me try them!”
    “It’s my pleasure! Now then, are you hungry? Have a bratwurst on me. We cooked extra last night, so there’s plenty to go around, and I’ll leave the peppers off this time. Merry Christmas!”
    “Thank you Friedrich, you are so kind! Merry Christmas, enjoy the parade!” Cristina replied, taking the bratwurst and sinking her teeth into it as she continued on along the parade route.
    The crowd was really beginning to fill up, and now that she was closer, the music was quite intense. Everyone was jumping with excitement; she could feel the ground beneath her quake as the crowd jumped in unison to the beat. The parade would be starting soon, and Cristina seemed to have found the best spot to enjoy the festivities.
    A loud squeal rang through the street as a microphone turned on. The music died down and mayor McMnally took the stage.
    “Good morning people of Vienna! Merry Christmas!” he greeted everyone at the parade.
    “Merry Christmas!” the crowd responded.
    “Thank you once again for another fantastic attendance to the annual Vienna Christmas Parade! Every year it fills me with great joy to see so many smiling faces, and so much energy lining these streets. It fills me with even greater joy to know how much you all have helped those less fortunate in our community. We continue to keep those less fortunate from going hungry because of your generosity. I’d also like to give a special thanks to Mr. Hott and Dr. Meander for donating such crucial equipment to those who could never afford it otherwise. This is what Christmas is about folks! Thank you for your efforts, please enjoy the parade, and Merry Christmas!”
    The crowd roared as the mayor stepped off the stage. An eruption of fireworks signaled the start of the parade, and sure enough, some of the most elaborate floats anyone had ever seen came rolling through. The music started up again, this time even louder than before. Never had Cristina felt such trembling in the streets.
    She looked to her left, and down the sidewalk she saw a man and his daughter walking, trying to get a good view of the parade. After focusing in she noticed the girl had a prosthetic leg, a very nice one. She couldn’t even tell at first that it was artificial. Turning back to the parade, Cristina realized she had seen them before. “The girl from my dream” she thought. “Wow, she was given the new prosthetic model from Dr. Meander, she must be elated!”
    The girl and her father found an opening in the crowd and could now see the floats coming by. She had the biggest smile on her face. Thanks to her father’s efforts through the years, walking with a prosthetic leg was natural for her. With the state of the art model from Dr. Meander, it was seamless.
    The floats and performances continued travelling by for another few hours, and by that time Cristina was ready to head home. She made her way back down the street, deciding to stop just one more time for one of Friedrich’s bratwursts.
    “Hi Friedrich, I’m back!”
    “Hello Ms. Cristina, you’re lucky, I have one more bratwurst just for you!”
    “Wonderful, I’m really lucking out today!”
    “Here you go!” Friedrich said as he handed her his last bratwurst. “I have just enough jingle bell peppers to top this one off, are you sue you don’t want any?” he asked.
    Cristina thought for a moment, and replied “You know what, sure, what the holly! It is Christmas after all!”
    “Excellent!” Friedrich exclaimed as he topped the bratwurst off. “I’m out of stock, so now it’s time to get back to work. With my new heater in place, I should be able to open my own bratwurst vending business soon!”
    “Thank you Friedrich! Good luck, you know I’ll be your first customer!” Cristina replied as she made her way back home.
    She took a big bite of the bratwurst, and as it snapped, once again dripping with juice, the intense sweetness filled her mouth and the sound of Swissmas carols rang through her ears. The feeling lasted several minutes, and once it died down she returned to pondering what she had learned since she left work last night. She had seen so many good things done by many good people. “What an amazing time of year, how could I have been so unaware?” she thought to herself.
    Cristina had taken the longer way home, and as she finished her bratwurst, she again passed the alley where she dreamed she had met Harold. “I wonder. . .” she thought. Instead of continuing home, she turned and went down the alley one more time to the trash bin that she dreamed she had met Harold. As she approached it, she began to smell the familiar scent of hamburgers fill her nostrils. With anticipation she opened the lid. It was empty.
    Slightly disappointed, Cristina threw out the tray her bratwurst had come in and closed the lid. She turned around and started walking back home. “It was all a dream. Why would I expect to actually see a talking hamburger in the trash?” She thought. “Still, I’m thankful for that dream. I really understand what the meaning of Christmas is now. Even if it had to come from a talking, flying hamburger.”
    She arrived at her apartment and began unlocking the door. Before she could take a step inside, though, she heard a nasally voice cry out “Merry Christmas Cristina!”
    Hardly able to believe it, Cristina turned around and looked up to see Harold flying over the rooftops. Before she could get any words out of her mouth, he was already in the distance. She waved back as he flew away, and she whispered to herself “Merry Christmas Harold.”

A Bit of Thanksgiving History

    Thanksgiving is a time for gratitude and grapes. Pilgrims arrived in England in 1620 and confused, sailed to America. Squanto welcomed them in 1621 when the pilgrims crossed the Atlantic Ocean. What happened nearly conjured pumpkin pie, but Indian corn was made available. Historians believe Indian corn is popular among Europeans. Europeans agreed to eat it. They found it particularly appetizing and made it part of their diet for centuries to come. 
    Originally the Indians were sent turkeys and forced to eat them, but their children left their homeland for bacon. Mr. Kernels, the first president of native traditions, recovered chicken salad from cultural artifacts. Its history is not certain, but evidence suggests that it originated from turkey substitutes. Occasionally people who ate it would spread stuffing on their shoulders, thankful for the harvest. Their chief, Squanto, saw these people and expected different ideas. . . When they began, he recommended using pudding instead. Revolutionaries who wanted stuffing launched a frenzied 3-day persecution of Yankees, beginning the first national war of Thanksgiving. Chestnuts were roasted and thrown at Plymouth colonists, but they gathered them and found them quite enjoyable to eat. Foiled by the colonist's cunning, the Indians resorted to alternative plans. 
    Ultimately, baptized sausages boiled by Native Americans helped solve the holiday tensions. Confidently, they were joined together with little wiggle berries and donated to the pilgrims. The nations thereafter opposed unorthodox persecution, and they were happier.
    Captain Myles Standish Jennings prepared for a simpler time, but he was careful not to celebrate right away. Big Waterfowl, an inspirational renegade Native American, managed to build a large trampoline in November 1863. When president Thomas Ronald found out, he attacked with 1900s style prowess. He sent Captain Myles Standish Jennings to defend against Big Waterfoul's attacks. For 17 days, Captain Myles Standish Jennings and his men fought off trampoline-launched warriors, armed with nothing but boiled baptized sausages. On the 17th day, as the defenders grew weary, Peter Marshall, Captain Myles Standish Jennings' head scout, saw cavalry in the distance. Squanto arrived with 109 horseback-bound puritans, and put and end to Big Waterfowl's vivacious 17-day onslaught. President Thomas Ronald congratulated Captain Myles Standish Jennings and Squanto with a feast of thanksgiving. 
    Centuries later, we continue to gather annually in remembrance of this historical victory, thankful for the relatively projectileless times we live in. If not for the pilgrims, and Captain Myles Standish Jenning' brave and resourceful defense, we would not have our festive Thanksgiving tradition. So, this year let's once again put differences aside and come together in thanksgiving for the good things we do have.