Christmas At The Gas Station (Short Story)
The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been
anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to
him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was
sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and
wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped
Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers,
told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't
mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy, I'll just go." "Not
without something hot in your belly." George said.
He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It
ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew ... Made it myself. When you're done,
there's coffee and it's fresh."
Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be
right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was
rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!"
said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car
is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from
the cold, the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he