The Christmas Spirit

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It was Christmas Eve. Harry and Shirley had returned from an enjoyable midnight mass at their local church.  They arrived home and spent a short while relaxing by an open fire before retiring to bed.

Some time in the middle of the night they were awoken by heavy knocking on their front door. Harry was very unhappy about this. He went down stairs and noisily unlocked the door to be confronted by disheveled man who was obviously the worse for drink.

'Th'cuse me thur. Will you helpth me with a puth."

"Help you with a push!" said Harry. "You drunken idiot! Get away from my house before I call the police! Irresponsible people like you should be banned from driving!" And slammed the door into the man's face.

He went back to bed and was astonished to find himself being reprimanded by his wife.

"How could you be so mean and uncharitable." she said. "Surely this evening's sermon must still be ringing in your ears. How the innkeeper turned Joseph and Mary away on Christmas Eve. Here you are presented with the same situation and you show yourself to be no better than that uncaring man. Shame on you."

Harry was shocked by the relevance of what he had done and was full of remorse. He ran down the stairs and opened the front door, but the man was no longer there.  So, he ran down the path to his front gate to see if the man or his car was along the road; but there was no traffic or people at all.

On the off-chance that the man might still be around somewhere he shouted loudly. "Hey mister, needing a push, where are you?

The unmistakable drunken voice replied immediately. "Over here thur, on the thwing."
 

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