Joe the Kid

I live with Joe the kid. He is the first person I see every morning and the last person I hear every night before I go to bed. For being around each other so often, we speak very little. Sometimes, but not always, I will say 'see ya' as I leave for work. Rarely, when I come home from work to see Joe the Kid and one of his girlfriends on the couch, I will say 'hey.' Communication between us has only once gone beyond these simple greetings.

It was a couple of days before the weekend before thanksgiving. This meant that in a few short days, Santa would show up at the Traverse City mall to hear the wishlists of the children of Northern Michigan. Elves would herd these children into orderly lines, and hand out candy canes and snap pictures and wrap packages in colorful paper. I could see myself as one of these elves, and I knew I had a shot at the job, Phyllis being the manager of the whole deal. She promised me that if Joe the Kid didn't pass the required drug test, I would have the job. So naturally, I was anxious to find out what the Kid's plans were. One silent afternoon, as the Kid was passing me in the kitchen, I decided to confront him about the situation. His blank application was mocking me from the kitchen table where it lay. "Say, Joe," I began, trying to sound casual, "are you going to be an elf at the mall with your mom?" He pretended he didnt know what I was talking about. "You know, for the Santa clause display." "Oh, that," he responded lamely, "I don't think I am going to do that." I believed him. I started to plan out my elf suit in my head, in case it wasn't provided.

Two days later, all of my hopes came crashing down. The Kid's aplication mysteriously vanished from the kitchen table, only to be replaced with a drug test form. And the next day, it was the roster. The Santa's helper roster, listing 'Joseph" as Santa's helper #3. I nearly choked on my Kimche.

Needless to say, that was the last time ventured to say any more than a 'see ya' or 'hey' to Joe the Kid.