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THE BALLAD OF JOHNNY STICKS
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An original Christmas story by Frank Cox (Dec 2023)
It was a cold December night and the snow was falling like confetti from the heavens. The streets were slick with ice, and the air was filled with the distant sound of jingling bells and festive carols. In town, there was a little drummer boy named Johnny Sticks, known for his steady hand and rhythmic beats that could make even the toughest hearts tap along.
Johnny had a reputation in the city for being a no-nonsense kid, always sticking to his own beat. He wore a fedora low over his eyes and a trench coat that billowed in the winter wind. His drumsticks were like extensions of his own limbs, and his beats echoed the heart of the city.
Not a creature was stirring and Johnny was in his office, killing time and a bottle of whiskey, when up on the rooftop he heard such a clatter he flew up the stairs and busted through the doorway just in time to see a shadowy figure disappearing down the fire escape. A woman in a torn red dress was there and when Johnny said "What's the matter?" she cried, "Help me, he's stolen our festive joy!"
Yeah, Johnny thought, this is bad. Really bad. The cold darkness of the holiday season loomed and Johnny Sticks knew he couldn't turn a blind eye to a case like this.
He tightened the scarf around his neck, adjusted his fedora, and set out into the winter night. His boots crunched through the snow as he left the scene of the crime to find the miscreant.
The trail was cold and snow was swirling in the glow from the street lights, but Johnny had a knack for finding the rhythm in chaos. He followed the faint echoes of laughter and the distant sounds of carolers until he reached a dimly lit alley. There, he spotted the shadowy figure, hunched over a sack of stolen Christmas cheer.
"Looks like you're on the naughty list this year," Johnny said, stepping into the light.
The figure turned around, revealing a twisted grin. It was the notorious Grinch, a lowlife who thrived on stealing the holiday spirit from the innocent.
"You can't stop me, Sticks. Christmas is overrated," the Grinch sneered.
Johnny didn't waste a beat. With a swift motion, he pulled out his drumsticks and began to play a rhythm that echoed through the alley. The beats were so infectious that even the Grinch couldn't resist tapping his foot.
As Johnny played, the stolen Christmas spirit seeped out of the Grinch's sack and back into the air. The alley filled with the joyous sounds of carolers, and the snow seemed to dance to the rhythm of Johnny's drum.
With a defeated look, the Grinch muttered, "You've got more rhythm than I thought, Sticks."
Johnny smirked and replied, "That's the thing about Christmas, pal. It's all about finding the right beat."
As the city was bathed in the glow of restored holiday spirit, Johnny Sticks walked away into the snowy night, his drumsticks still tapping a victorious rhythm. The little drummer boy had saved Christmas, one beat at a time, proving that even in the darkest corners, the spirit of the season could prevail.
And as Johnny strode into the night a chorus of voices cried, "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"
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An original Christmas story by Frank Cox (Dec 2023)
It was a cold December night and the snow was falling like confetti from the heavens. The streets were slick with ice, and the air was filled with the distant sound of jingling bells and festive carols. In town, there was a little drummer boy named Johnny Sticks, known for his steady hand and rhythmic beats that could make even the toughest hearts tap along.
Johnny had a reputation in the city for being a no-nonsense kid, always sticking to his own beat. He wore a fedora low over his eyes and a trench coat that billowed in the winter wind. His drumsticks were like extensions of his own limbs, and his beats echoed the heart of the city.
Not a creature was stirring and Johnny was in his office, killing time and a bottle of whiskey, when up on the rooftop he heard such a clatter he flew up the stairs and busted through the doorway just in time to see a shadowy figure disappearing down the fire escape. A woman in a torn red dress was there and when Johnny said "What's the matter?" she cried, "Help me, he's stolen our festive joy!"
Yeah, Johnny thought, this is bad. Really bad. The cold darkness of the holiday season loomed and Johnny Sticks knew he couldn't turn a blind eye to a case like this.
He tightened the scarf around his neck, adjusted his fedora, and set out into the winter night. His boots crunched through the snow as he left the scene of the crime to find the miscreant.
The trail was cold and snow was swirling in the glow from the street lights, but Johnny had a knack for finding the rhythm in chaos. He followed the faint echoes of laughter and the distant sounds of carolers until he reached a dimly lit alley. There, he spotted the shadowy figure, hunched over a sack of stolen Christmas cheer.
"Looks like you're on the naughty list this year," Johnny said, stepping into the light.
The figure turned around, revealing a twisted grin. It was the notorious Grinch, a lowlife who thrived on stealing the holiday spirit from the innocent.
"You can't stop me, Sticks. Christmas is overrated," the Grinch sneered.
Johnny didn't waste a beat. With a swift motion, he pulled out his drumsticks and began to play a rhythm that echoed through the alley. The beats were so infectious that even the Grinch couldn't resist tapping his foot.
As Johnny played, the stolen Christmas spirit seeped out of the Grinch's sack and back into the air. The alley filled with the joyous sounds of carolers, and the snow seemed to dance to the rhythm of Johnny's drum.
With a defeated look, the Grinch muttered, "You've got more rhythm than I thought, Sticks."
Johnny smirked and replied, "That's the thing about Christmas, pal. It's all about finding the right beat."
As the city was bathed in the glow of restored holiday spirit, Johnny Sticks walked away into the snowy night, his drumsticks still tapping a victorious rhythm. The little drummer boy had saved Christmas, one beat at a time, proving that even in the darkest corners, the spirit of the season could prevail.
And as Johnny strode into the night a chorus of voices cried, "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"
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