The Crafty Christmas Crew
By Audrey W.
“So, what’re you making, Chester B?”
“Wha--?” The mustached fireman asked as a white ping pong ball whizzed past him. He stared in disbelief first at the server, Mike Stoker, then at John Gage, who’d just distracted him, making him miss his turn. “Only the most awesome play in ping pong that you’d ever see, except you messed up my move.” He then returned his attention to Mike. “That didn’t count.”
John rolled his eyes. “No, I mean for the contest.”
It was early December and the Los Angeles County fire department was running a Christmas arts and craft competition among the various fire stations. The men had just been notified of it the previous shift two days earlier. They’d also been informed that the items would be auctioned off for charity afterwards.
“Oh that. I’m not sure I should tell ya.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need your negativity about it.”
“I’m making a Christmas tree,” Mike stated. “But you’ll have to wait for the finished product to see how.”
“Sure, Mike,” Gage said with half interest. He was still more curious about the other’s. “C’mon, Chet. Maybe I’ll give ya encouragement.”
“Yeah, Chet, like he just gave me,” Stoker said with sarcasm. “What are you making, Johnny?”
“I’d rather not say. I don’t need any negativity from you guys.”
The ping pong players looked at each other, exchanging eye rolls before returning to their game.
~*~*~
John was discussing craft plans with his partner Roy DeSoto when the klaxons sounded. The two men listened from where they were seated on the brown leather couch in the dayroom, Roy with the daily newspaper on his lap, the other taking his attention off the TV at one end of the room.
“Squad 51, child down, 1539 West Palm Street, one five three nine West Palm Street, cross street Cedar Avenue. Time out 10;16.”
The two men were up from the couch in an instant, newspaper tossed aside. They trotted for the doorway that led to the apparatus bay. John followed behind Roy to their squad, climbing in on the passenger side as Mike acknowledged the call at the podium nearby.
“. . .KMG365.”
He then handed the small paper with the information to Roy in the driver’s seat. The paramedics were then on their way, lights and siren in use.
~*~*~
“He’s in our parents’ bedroom closet with mom,’ the teenaged daughter directed as she escorted the paramedics through the house toward where her younger brother was apparently the downed victim.
“Is he stuck?” John wondered.
“Not exactly. But mom didn’t want to move him.”
“Did he fall?”
She glanced at Roy as they entered the room, where several wrapped packages were strewn across the floor alongside the full-sized bed. The closet door was open with more boxes, some just plain and with lids partway off inside and out. The sniffling youth with tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes from crying was lying on his side in the doorway of the closet as well, a partially flattened box and his mom beside him.
Their mother got to her feet as soon as John and Roy walked in.
“I wasn’t sure if I should call for you guys, but Gregory was just in so much pain when he tried to get up. His right side landed on his dad’s Christmas present, a camera. I managed to get it out from under him.”
That certainly had to hurt, John figured. Especially since the box was squished on the item inside. He wondered what the camera looked like as well, though it likely survived.
The men set the biophone and black boxes they’d carried in down, then stepped over to assess the boy.
“How old are you, Gregory?” Roy asked.
“Sss. . .se. . .ven,” he said as he started to cry again.
John once again glanced at the mess all around. “How’d this happen?”
“He was snooping, looking for his presents. He built a ‘ladder’ out of the sturdier boxes to see if anything was still unwrapped and hidden up on our closet shelf, and his ladder gave way.”
The mother made a sweeping motion with her right arm to indicate the boxes were all a part of the disaster.
~*~*~
After determining Gregory likely had fractured a couple of ribs, the paramedics had him on his way to Rampart General. Roy rode along with him while John followed behind in the squad.
Once at the hospital and the boy in the care of Doctor Morton, the partners met up at the base station, where nurse Dixie McCall was just finishing a conversation with two paramedics from another station.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite team,” she said as the others walked away, and Gage and DeSoto approached.
“I’ll bet you say that to all the paramedics,” John teased.
“I’ll never admit it.” She said with a wink, then looked at Roy as she became more serious. “How’s the boy you brought in?”
“Doing okay. I don’t think he’ll go snooping around for presents anytime soon.”
She raised her eyebrows in question. John explained what the youth had done.
“Ah, I see. I would guess not. Did the camera make it?”
“Appeared so.”
John leaned with both elbows on the counter. “So, did those guys from Station 36 mention anything about the Christmas craft contest the fire department is having?”
“No, but some others from another station did yesterday. They were kind of lost for ideas.”
Gage exchanged a brief glance with his partner, then returned his gaze to her.
“Did you give ‘um any ideas?”
“Not really. I kind of drew a blank myself.”
Both paramedics grinned slightly. If some of the men were having trouble coming up with ideas, they each had a better chance of winning.
“Is it wrong to be happy about that?” Roy wondered aloud.
Dixie shook her head. “Just human,” she said with a smile. “I take it you two have ideas?”
“Our whole crew does.”
As she pushed back from the desk, she replied to John, “Well, I guess the six of you will be known as the crafty crew.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he acknowledged with a lopsided grin. “I guess so.”
Roy figured now he was going to hear about their craftiness and odds of winning the entire ride back to the station.
~*~*~
Roy wasn’t wrong on his assumption at Rampart. As they climbed out of the squad at the station, Gage was still going on about everything crafty.
“. . .so I wonder which one of us’ll win first prize. . .”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. No one’s even completed a project yet. It’s one thing to think of something. Execution of an idea is a whole ‘nother story.”
“Think positive, Roy. Think positive.”
“I am. I’m positive it’s a whole ‘nother story.”
John shook his head. “Ha ha ha. Real funny.”
~*~*~
After returning from another call, John and Roy joined two of their crewmates who were once again playing ping pong. This time it was Chet challenging Marco Lopez.
“So, have ya decided to share your contest idea yet?” Gage wondered as he and Roy approached.
Just like before, Chet was distracted and missed the ball.
“Do you just enjoy ruining my score?”
“Sorry. I. . .we. . .Roy an’ I were just wondering what you guys have come up with. Whatever it is, you have a good chance of winning.” He nudged his partner in the left shoulder with his right and nodded toward the curly haired fireman.
“That’s right,” the senior paramedic followed through. “We found out from Dixie that some of the guys at other stations are struggling to come up with ideas.”
“Really?” Marco cut in. He grinned. “Well, I’m working on a wreath. I’ve just got to add some decorations on it.”
Chet must’ve seemed more comfortable sharing his idea after hearing Marco’s because suddenly he was willing to let the others know.
“I’m doing a gingerbread house.”
The winces on the paramedics’ faces had him immediately regretting it.
“What?”
“Have you got it put together yet?” John wondered.
“Uhm, no. . .why?” He hesitantly asked.
“Roy tried building one with his wife and kids. Ask him.”
“Let’s just say it did not go well.”
“That’s because you didn’t have the Chet Kelly technique.”
He went back to the game with Marco, this time serving a ball to the other.
“What’s the ‘Chet Kelly’ technique?”
As he hit the returned ball with the paddle, Kelly replied, “If I gave that away, it wouldn’t be mine anymore. Trust me, the house’ll be just fine.”
“C’mon, let’s just get some coffee,” Roy said as he turned to head for the dayroom.
“Chet Kelly technique,” Gage repeated with a snicker as he again followed his partner.
Once they were gone, Marco asked, “What’s your technique?”
“I’ll let ya know after I figure it out.”
~*~*~
The following shift two days later, some of the A-shift crew had completed their projects. They hadn’t brought them in yet since the deadline wasn’t for another few days.
Chet hadn’t finished his house yet, though he claimed to have it put together.
“It’s just gotta set up while I’m on duty. Then I’ll decorate it when I get home again.”
“I’m impressed,” John admitted from where he stood at his locker across from Chet’s. Both men were getting changed into uniform several minutes before their duty started. “So the ‘Chet Kelly technique’ really worked.”
Chet put a hand on his chest, his white undershirt partially showing with his blue uniform shirt still hanging open.
“I’m offended that you even had doubt.”
“Doubt? I wouldn’t call it doubt, Chet.”
“What would you call it then?”
The paramedic closed his locker. “Total disbelief.”
Chet shook his head, his gaze on the floor. He couldn’t wait till they could see his completely finished project. He couldn’t wait till he could as well.
~*~*~
Late into the afternoon, it was obvious that Gage was having a rough shift. First he’d nearly gone over an embankment in a teetering vehicle that he and Roy had gotten the victim out of before the close call.
Two rescues later, he’d gotten washed off a rocky surface by rough ocean waters as he and Roy worked to get two stranded boaters into a basket to be lifted up into a helicopter. He’d had to take a ride into Rampart to get checked afterward. Luckily John was cleared for duty.
“You ever notice 99 percent of the time one of us needs rescued, it’s Gage?”
Roy and the others nodded in response to Chet’s comment from their seats around the table in the dayroom, a very late lunch in front of each of them. John frowned, his brow furrowed.
“I don’t think so,” he protested. “I remember times each one of you’ve needed some rescuing.”
“Well, sure, Johnny baby,” Chet admitted. “I’m just saying the majority of the time it happens, it’s you.”
The dark-haired paramedic glanced around the table, hopes that maybe one crewmate would change to his side. Instead he got Captain Stanley’s input.
“He’s right, John. Truth be told, when I look over accident reports I’ve had to fill out, your name outshines the rest.”
Since he wasn’t going to get anywhere in this conversation, Gage changed the direction of it.
“Anyone hear anything about the competition and how the others guys around the county are doing with their projects?”
“More than half the guys are expected to participate,” the captain informed them. “Judges are going to be from headquarters and Rampart General.”
Gage looked at DeSoto, the latter immediately knowing exactly what he was thinking.
“Dixie won’t play favoritism if she’s one of them, nor can she be bribed.”
~*~*~
After the lunch dishes were cleaned up, the paramedics were once again at Rampart, this time just to stop by to see who was going to be a judge. John had insisted they at least find out.
“Relax, Roy,” he said to his partner as they parked a few spots down from the ER entrance. “We’re only trying to get the names to satisfy our curiosity.”
“Your curiosity. Have you ever heard the saying ‘curiosity killed the cat’?”
Gage frowned as they climbed out of the squad.
“About a dozen times from you since we’ve been partners.”
Roy grinned slightly. He was going to need to think of a new line.
The two went into the building, in search of the one person whom would likely know who the judges there were.
~*~*~
Dixie sat down at the table in the nurses’ lounge, where she’d directed the paramedics to join her for coffee.
John sipped at the cup in his right hand as Roy sat down beside him.
“So you’re here on a mission,” she said as she eyed the two, a cup with a flower design on it in front of her.
“Not exactly,” Gage explained. “We were just. . .uh. . .curious about somethin’.”
“Haven’t you heard curiosity killed the cat?”
The dark-haired paramedic glanced at his partner, rolling his eyes when he saw the smile on the other’s face.
“I seem to have heard that from someone.”
“Johnny was wondering if you knew who the judges for the fire department’s craft competition are. The ones from here.”
She rested her right elbow on the table, her chin on the palm of her hand. “Well, I can tell you who it’s not. It’s not anyone who works in this section. I think they may have gone with the admin from upstairs.”
That made sense. They were probably more readily available than the emergency medical personnel. Now Gage wondered why he’d wanted to find out in the first place. Curiosity may not have killed the cat, but it did do in his own curiosity.
I’ll bet no one ever came up with a saying for THAT, he thought to himself.
~*~*~
“So, how much did it cost ya?” Chet questioned once the paramedics returned to the station. The two men had just gotten out of their squad.
“What’re ya talkin’ about?” Gage asked with annoyance as he closed the passenger side door.
“To pay off your friends at Rampart to vote for your projects.”
“Ha ha. That’s not why we went and you know it. It just so happens, no one we know is involved anyway.”
Chet looked at Roy, who was leaning on the hood of the squad, for confirmation and got a nod in return.
“So you would have tried.”
John rolled his eyes and sighed.
“There’s just no gettin’ through to you, is there?”
“Not when I’m havin’ this much fun dragging it out.”
“Oh brother. Your fun is my headache.”
Chet grinned with a waggle of his eyebrows, which brought another eye roll from John.
~*~*~
Three days later, the men were back on duty again. It was also time to bring in their completed projects. The other shifts had brought theirs in, some were already at headquarters, where they would be judged. Others were inside the back of a van parked on the side of the street across from the station. As soon as the last remaining entries were onboard, they would be delivered by a volunteer.
Already in uniform and dark blue jacket, John carried in a four-panel window frame he’d painted white then weathered with some stain. It was decorated for Christmas with a picture of Santa Claus sitting in a chair, presumably indoors at the North Pole, behind it. Colored lights lined the outer parameter of the frame across the top and down the sides. He leaned it against the wall just inside the dayroom doorway.
“But it has to be plugged in,” Mike Stoker said as he and Roy stood looking at the display with a cord that would clearly only reach inches below the bottom part of the frame.
“Well, of course it does,” Gage said with a snorted snicker. “Everyone knows lights have to be plugged in to work. So what’s wrong with that?”
“It has to be plugged in,” he repeated.
“I think what he’s getting at,” Roy explained, his right hand on his chin in thought, “is that it’s kind of an inconvenient feature when the cord won’t reach most outlets since they are often in the lower section of the wall.”
“Has no one heard of an extension cord?” John asked in exasperation. He then pointed to a red and green striped painted vase with Christmas lilies in it that was on the kitchen area table with other projects.
“I didn’t criticize the simplicity of your project, or yours,” he added, pointing to Stoker’s table top tree built out of an assortment of shiny round Christmas ornaments glued together. “Or who ever that one belongs to,” he added, pointing to a twelve-inch tall cowboy snowman made from three different sized Styrofoam balls. “Why pick on the non-simplicity of mine?”
Captain Stanley had just walked into the room, a cup of coffee in hand, when John made his last reference. He took a sip, then commented, “That one you speak of happens to be mine.” He then glanced down at the decorated window frame still leaning against the wall just inside the doorway. “Hey, nice window but won’t it need to be plugged in?”
Gage sighed and shook his head while the other two observers grinned.
~*~*~
A short time later the men were joined by Marco, who brought in a wreath made from origami red flowers and green leaves. The tips of all were lined with silver and gold glitter that was remarkably smooth.
“Wow,” John said, admiring the handy work. “That must’ve taken you hours.”
“Yes, but I didn’t do it all in one day, so. . .” he shrugged.
“I didn’t know you knew how to do origami,” Roy stated. “Who taught you?”
“My cousin Rosita. She learned in art class at school.”
“Far out.” John glanced toward the doorway. “I wonder how Chet did with his gingerbread house.”
“Well, being that he isn’t here yet, I’d say you probably have your answer,” Mike stated.
Roy glanced at his partner and the engineer.
“Oh I don’t know. Maybe he’s just running late because he had to take extra care with it.”
“Where ever he is,” Captain Stanley firmly said, “He’d better get here soon. It’s almost roll call.”
The men listened as Engine 51 returned to the apparatus bay from a run C-shift had been on. The paramedics from their crew were still at Rampart with a victim from the rescue. Captain Stanley exited the dayroom to go talk to the other captain.
“Brace yourselves, we’re about to get more unsolicited reviews.”
John turned out to be right. He wasn’t surprised when one of the newly arrived firemen looked at his and said, “But don’t you have to be able to plug it in?”
~*~*~
Chet Kelly glanced one more time at his watch as he climbed out of his VW bus in the back parking lot of the station. He’d had to take a detour on the way to work and realized he was close to being late now.
As he made his way into the open rear apparatus bay doors, he noticed the squad was missing. Being that only C-shift engine crew members were leaving as he was entering, he figured it meant Johnny and Roy weren’t the paramedics out with the red truck.
“The other guys all brought in their stuff,” one fireman remarked as he walked up to the mustached crafty Kelly. “So where’s your gingerbread house?” He asked, glancing out at the VW. “Do we get to see it?”
“I don’t have it with me. You’ll just have to wait till later.”
“Must be as bad as we thought it would be,” he said with a laugh and continued on to the parking lot.
Chet ignored the outburst. The teasing was common among them all at one time or another, plus he was about to have to explain his missing house to the rest of his crewmates.
~*~*~
John was in the middle of pouring a cup of coffee when Chet walked in, dressed in uniform and ready for duty. The only thing missing was the gingerbread house he was supposed to enter into the contest.
“Where’s your project?” Roy asked from where he stood near the stove before the other could.
The rest of the crew waited for the answer.
“You mean I don’t have it?” Chet looked down and around, like he truly was surprised.
“I guess I don’t.”
“Is it that bad?” Mike wondered.
“Actually, it turned out pretty good, Mikey. I just didn’t want to risk it getting damaged in transport, so I took it directly to headquarters yesterday myself.”
The captain raised an eyebrow, a slight grin on his face. “That was awful ambitious of you, Kelly. Are you sure your only motivation was delivering it safely?”
The mustached fireman couldn’t help but display disappointment. “Cap, what else would be the reason?”
Gage snorted a laugh. “Your house turned out to be a mess and you don’t want us ta see it.”
“Why would he take it anywhere if that was the case?” Roy wondered, which brought a puzzled frown to his partner’s face.
“Yeah, Johnny, why would I?”
“He’s got us there,” the captain agreed.
“I guess it’ll only matter to the judges,” John said with a shrug. “I still think you’re not tellin’ us the whole story,” he added, leaning toward Chet, whose attention was now on the window display by the door.
“Anyone realize that’s gotta be plugged in?”
The other four grinning firemen eyed Gage, who just sighed again as he slowly shook his head.
~*~*~
John whistled the tune Jingle Bells as he entered the locker room, where his partner Roy was already in progress of changing into uniform.
It had been a couple of days since their previous shift and the men were returning back for another twenty-four hour shift.
Mike and Chet were also in the process of changing into uniform, with Marco already in the station somewhere waiting on them.
“Good mornin’, good mornin’,” Gage cheerily said, having stopped the whistling. He stepped over the bench in front of his locker and opened the narrow wooden door.
“You sure are happy this morning,” Roy observed. “You know something we don’t?”
The dark-haired paramedic opened his mouth to reply, but Chet spoke before he could.
“Yeah, Johnny. Did your window win first prize or something?”
He shook his head. “Can’t a guy just be happy?”
The three eyed him suspiciously. Sure a guy could be, but it seemed the paramedic often had some scheme in mind when he was this happy.
“So what’s up?” Roy decided to ask as he closed his locker. He was ready for duty.
“Nothin’. I just heard that someone from this station got first place with their project, and with the odds bein’ one in eighteen, it very well could be one of us.”
Clad only in a white t-shirt and underwear now, he pulled his light blue uniform shirt from his locker.
Mike and Roy appeared happy at the news, Chet reluctant to embrace the idea. . .yet. The less than enthusiastic response wasn’t lost on Gage.
“What’sa matter, Chet? Don’tcha think your gingerbread house could win?”
“Well--”
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Captain Stanley interrupted from the entrance of the dorm as he came out between the two rows of lockers. “As soon as you men are ready, I need to see you in my office.”
“Okay, Cap,” both Mike and Roy answered in unison.
Once the senior officer was gone, Roy shrugged. “I guess I’ll go now since I’m ready.”
“Hey, wait for the rest of us,” John commented.
“Why?”
The younger man grinned. “Because it’s almost certain now at least one of us got first place an’ it only seems right we all find out at the same time.”
Roy headed for the door that led to the apparatus bay. “I’ll stop by the dayroom to get coffee first,” he said over his shoulder as he opened it. John watched with a disappointed frown as the door closed behind his partner.
~*~*~
The three crew members met up with Marco and Roy on their way to the office. Even Marco didn’t have a clue as to what it was about.
“I still say one of us won,” John insisted.
As they entered, they saw a towel over an odd shaped figure on the desk.
“See?” Gage said quietly as he nudged his partner in the ribs. “I’ll bet it’s a trophy.”
Roy rubbed at his side where he’d just been ‘nudged’ a bit rougher than intended.
Captain Stanley grinned as the men gathered in his office.
“First, I have to tell you, Marco, your origami art work got second.”
He handed the Hispanic fireman a small plastic gold colored trophy on a brown wooden stand.
Marco glanced happily at the others, before returning his attention to Hank. “It’s small, but it’s going to make my mom just as happy as a big one would.”
“Might wanna hand her a magnifying glass . . .” John teased from behind him, followed by a snicker.
Roy rolled his eyes, bringing the laugh to a quick stop.
“I thought it was funny,” he mumbled.
Hank shook his head, then continued, “I don’t think any of you will be surprised that Craig Brice won first place.”
With Brice being a perfectionist to an annoying extent, both on the job as a paramedic and off, none were surprised at all.
“I thought someone from our station had won,” John stated with a frown.
“Just rumors,” the captain explained.
“What did he make?”
“Well, Roy, he actually did a window display much like John here.”
The dark-haired paramedic’s lower jaw went slack.
“What made his stand out over mine?”
“I’m not sure except I know it didn’t have a short cord with a plug.”
Gage frowned again as he glanced at his amused comrades.
Captain Stanley got their attention again with his last bit of news.
“Chet, unfortunately there was an accident with your house.” He pulled the towel off the item, revealing the once standing gingerbread house now in ruins, two sidewalls having fallen to the right, the ends both inward and the roof collapsed amongst the downed supports. “Apparently it wasn’t built to withstand being bumped into.”
Chet stared at the downed house, his mouth open in shock. All that work he put into it, and no proof that he’d actually done a pretty good job.
The captain continued. “I just wanted the rest of you to know that your items are up for sale to raise the money for charity. Chet’s was the only casualty.”
“It’s all Gage’s fault.”
The dark-haired paramedic’s gaze shot to his accuser. He splayed a hand on his chest as he protested Chet’s words. “My fault. Just how is this my fault? I didn’t bump into your house, I wasn’t even there.”
“Actually you were. Look under the roof, in what space is left in there.”
Gage and the others complied, all very puzzled as to what Chet was getting at.
“You see a couple of gingerbread men inside?”
The men responded with nods, still peering under the roof while John said, “Yeah, so?”
“So that was you rescuing a victim.”
“What’s that got to do with your house bein’ bumped and fallin’ apart?”
“Anyone else wanna tell him, or should I?”
Roy and the others smiled slightly at one another. They all knew what Chet was getting at. It was going to be more fun if they let the curly haired fireman go on.
“You explain it,” Roy said as Gage looked at him with a puzzled expression.
“It just goes to show that conversation we had not long ago about you ending up needing to be rescued wasn’t far off. Even your cookie version got caught in a building collapse.”
The dark haired paramedic didn’t respond. With it being five against one, his defense was likely to collapse faster than the house.
This was inspired by a window frame my husband and I decorated for Christmas last year. Due to everything else going on in life, it took a year to get this story completed.
Merry Christmas!
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