’Twas the Stroke Before Christmas
Chapter 1

by Steve Chiappa (blinkie)

Page 4

That was shopping in Queens. This year, though, Grandma had moved to Tampa to be near her daughter, and we no longer had a place to stay up there. This didn’t mean my shopping responsibilities were over: I’d just have bring the cold cuts up from Florida, which was no mean feat after September 11th. (Some people smuggle drugs, I smuggle salami.)

It’s a couple of days before Christmas and we’re packed and ready to go. We have everything: prosciutto, salami, and cheese. (This bounty has been no little thing to find in Tampa, where Eye-talians are fairly rare.) It’s three in the morning. It’s pitch black. We are the only people in Tampa who are awake. We have four hours till our flight departs. We live twelve minutes from the airport. I have a type “A” personality. Do the math. According to me, we are late.

… to be continued ...