Another Christmas Story The Conclusion


Pig Writes:

Damm Cats, look at what they did!

Later that night Christmas Eve, we sat by the fire sipping on some Christmas cheer.

I felt depressed and let down for the old craftsman.

I felt an empty hole deep inside of me.

But then my old friend spoke up and said “There is more to Christmas than just presents, Pig. I knew before I even took that toy box over there she wouldn’t like it.”

Then why did you do it? Why go through all that trouble and expense?

A smile came across his face, one that warmed the room. I could feel peace in the air. “I learned a long, long time ago you came never outgive the greatest gift ever given” he said.

Christmas is not about presents, or trees, lights and decorations. Christmas is about the one present God gave each of us, His son, Jesus Christ. That is the greatest gift ever given.

It says in John 3:16 For God so loved the world that he gave his only son for those who believe in Him will have everlasting life.

That woman has spent her whole life busy trying to keep up with the Jones. She has lost any clue as to what Christmas is all about.

I built that toy box for my nephew, not for her. What she wanted was a high dollar piece of furniture to make her house look good. But it was not for her.

A hand made present has more meaning than any store bought present ever could. It means that you care enough about that person to spend time doing something nice for them.

I have received lots of Christmas presents through the years. Right now I cannot remember but only a few of them. But what I do remember is the Christmas gatherings and time I spent with family and friends. That means more to me than any present ever could.

Christmas is about our love for one another. It’s not about all that psycho baloney “Oh, I didn’t get the G.I. Joe with the kung foo grip for Christmas and now I am scarred for life and it’s all your fault”.

There was a pause as we both took a good long drag off of our Christmas cheer.

Then he said, “Pig, I want to learn to live your life by three little words.”

OK, hit me.”

Live, Laugh, Love” he said to me.

Live your life to the fullest each day as if it was your last.

Laugh with all of your might at everything funny.

Love with all your heart and all your soul.

There was another pause as I soaked in the words he had just spoken to me.

I looked at him and he smiled back at me. “Does this mean you won’t like my Christmas present to you?”

What did you buy me Pig?”

A six pack of beer.”

Well then break it out and we’ll share it together my little pink friend” he said with a boisterous laugh as he gave me a hug. I have to admit, sitting by the fire with my best friend just talking and laughing. Well, that beer tasted pretty darn good to me.

Merry Christmas Everybody

Ride HARD or Stay Home




Another Christmas Story Part Three

Pig Writes

The bike is ready to go

The bike is ready to go

You know that if I screw this up – you will be the one who will have Hell to pay”, the craftsman informed his wife.

It was decided to forgo the stars and stain on the toy box. It would look much better painted.

Over the next few days the craftsman toiled with wood putty and sandpaper.

The final product was smooth and soft to the touch.

Touching the wood with my fingers I could feel the love and devotion hard work makes.

Finally painted and finished the toy box looked good. It looked professional.

Only the person who crafted this work of art knew where his flaws were.

Yet one lingering question remained.

Would the toy box be good enough for the sister in law.

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Christmas Eve had come. It was time to load the toy box in the sled and deliver it to the nephew.

Before the man and has wife could pull away I sneaked into the back of the truck. I wanted to see what the reactions would be. I wanted to see for myself what I had hoped would be a miracle.

The craftsman was on his way to meet his nephew. He would hold him in his arms for the first time. He would be able to show his nephew what he built for him.

In the driveway of the sister in law house, the craftsman unloaded the toy box from the truck. It was placed gently in the garage.

I watched from the rear window of the truck as the sister in law walked around inspecting the toy box.

It was the moment of truth.

She did not smile, she didn’t so much as nod her head.

She gave her brother in law a halfhearted hug for all his effort. You could tell it was a fake.

The craftsman and his wife returned to the truck and we all drove home.

Along the way I had to ask a question I already knew the answer to. “Well, did she like it?”

The craftsman never said a word, his wife only said “Nope”.

Not another word was spoken the rest of the way home.

Part four: the conclusion of our story will posted on Christmas Eve.

Ride HARD or Stay Home.

Another Christmas Story Part Two

Another Christmas Story Part Two

Pig Writes

A whole week went by and the materials sat there in the shop. Not a tool was pulled off the shelf nor a pencil sharpened.

His mind raged on in battle as to why he must face this task.

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A task for a nephew he never met, for a sister-in-law he could not tolerate.

She cut him down in the past for his beliefs forged in the “old school” ways. He learned it was better to keep the peace, to mind his own business and keep to himself.

Now he is tasked to build something for the one person he despised the most.

The plan to build the toy box was simple, a few cuts of wood, a dab of glue along with a few screws and the toy box would be put together in a few hours. Yet he could not bring himself to the shop and start the project.

His heart was not in it.

His heart was not in it for all the wrong reasons.

It wasn’t the nephew’s fault.

But then Friday came with news of a horrible tragedy.

Twenty children and six adults would lose their lives to a madman.

The laughter silenced. The joy gone.

Those left behind will bear great pain for their loss.

Something changed inside the man’s mind. There was now movement in his heart.

Early that Saturday morning the work had begun. The tools of his craft were dusted off, cleaned and oiled. Blades were sharpened. Everything was ready to go.

I watched off to the side as the man got busy with his work. What he did once before as a young man now was a bit harder for him to do. The paunch of his fat belly strained his back, his tired eyes required prescription glasses instead of safety glasses. It was most certain he was not the same young man as long ago.

I watched as he toiled to make measurements and cuts. His written plans and drawings were more like notes scratched on paper to serve as reminders to him. The plan in his head being transferred to his hands. It didn’t take long before the raw materials began to take shape of a toy box. He continued working throughout the day. Only stopping for the occasional smoke break and a drink of his Dr. Pepper.

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I asked him once during the day why he was going through all this work if he really didn’t want to. His only reply was “I have my reason.”


That meant only one reason why.

I pondered as to what that one reason was.

At the end of the day the mans wife came out to the shop to see the progress made.

A smile grew on her face for she was pleased in what she saw.

Before her stood a grand toy box and shelf.

The wood was bare, the edges were rough-like the man who built it.

She loved him with all of her heart.

After a pause, the wife looked at her husband and asked “Where will the stars go?”

Stars?”, the man & I looked at each other, “What stars?”

Ride HARD or Stay Home


Another Christmas Story Part One


Christmas Story



The bike is ready to go

The bike is ready to go

long ago there was a young man who had desires to be a woodworker.

He was
creative. He learned many things from his father.

learned how to use tools safely and how to care for them.

learned his craft true and straight like the cuts he made into the
wood he used. Better yet, like a true craftsman, he learned how to
hide his mistakes.

young man made all sorts of things, from wooden toys to shelves and
even furniture. For he was good at his craft.

English: old craft

English: old craft (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

from all around wanted him to build things for them.

then one day, he put his tools down and stored them away. People had
changed. They didn’t want to pay him what he was owed for his
services. They all seemed to take advantage of him for his craft.

love of his craft was gone. The young man no longer enjoyed what he

was many years ago.

there was a birth of a nephew in the family and Christmas would soon

man was asked by his wife to build a toy box for the new nephew as a
Christmas present.

first the man said “No!”. But his wife knew how to push his
buttons to convince him to say “Yes”. The poor guy never stood a
chance. Broken down and ashamed I heard him mutter “OK, I’ll do

would agree to build a toy box for the new nephew, but not for the
sister-in-law who could not bear to stand in the same room as him.

was going through his mind at that moment, I would not know.

wasn’t sure as to why he would agree to build something his heart was
not into.

would learn why soon enough.

HARD or Stay Home



My Christmas Morning

My Christmas Morning

Hey Greetings to all my lovers of pork.

As you can tell by today’s title I’m here today to tell you all about my Christmas morning. If you read my last page, you know that I had intentions to stay up late Christmas Eve and see if I could catch a glimpse of the old fat man. To further assist me in my quest, I said that I was going to use radar (Military Grade) to track his every movement for me to be ready when he showed up.

The Big Man Himself

After a lovely evening spent with the family, Rainman did his standard shut down for the night by falling asleep in his recliner and snoring loud enough to wake the dead. After about 30 minutes of using the chainsaw to saw logs, everyone else decided to call it an early night and get some rest for Christmas day. After I was sure the rest of the household was out for the night, I fired up the old laptop, grabbed a fresh homebrew of Christmas beer out of the fridge and sat down to begin my trace.

Well, after about a half hour of searching and using two different search engines, I was getting close to finding the radar system I needed to track the fat man. But none of that mattered. Inside the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, except for the 12 federal agents that just busted through the front door and placed me under arrest. It seems that my ‘surfing’ alerted to the ‘proper’ authorities that someone in this household was attempting to hack into one of the NORAD systems. Oh-Boy, did I ever mess up this time. This one was bad!

All I was trying to do was prove to everyone that Santa Claus does exist, and that he was on his way here to San Antonio. All I got for my effort was a pair of handcuffs behind my back. Rainman and Stacey just stood there in disbelief as I was lead away to the squad car. Things went from bad to worse as I sat in the back of the squad car when old man Higgenson from across the street came out of his house. Seems that all the flashing red & blue lights woke him from his gentle slumber on this fine Christmas Eve. The old man, who can barely stand up on his own without the use of his cane or a walker, walks right up to an agent and begins to demand to know “just what in the HELL was going on here”. there he was talking to (more like yelling) the federal marshals about interrupting his sleep, along with the sleep of the rest of the neighborhood and wrongful arrest and prosecution of an innocent pig (that would be me).

Now a crowd of neighbors was gathering around the squad car I was sitting in. They too were beginning to demand to know what was going on. Thank God the marshals kept a very cool head, the crowd was ready to get out of hand and quick. Mr. Higgenson was being the riot leader demanded that I be released immediately and to prove his point that he meant business, Mr. Higgenson raised his cane and wacked that cop on the back of his shoulder. Lucky for him the crowd got a hold of the old man and pulled him back away. Now we can add assault charges to the list. Oh-Boy, at this point I will be old and gray before anyone sees me again.

What happened next is something I still can not believe. Two agents came out of the house carrying two cardboard boxes. They placed the boxes in the trunk of one of the other cars and then told the agent with the sore shoulder to release me. He went on to say that it was all a very big misunderstanding and that no charges would be filed. The crowd of neighbors cheered when I jumped out of the car. And suddenly, the marshals were gone as fast as they showed up. Everyone went home and it was all over. Thank you!

As I walked in the house, Stacey took one look at me and told Rainman “He’s your Pig, you deal with him.” With that she went off to bed. Rainman didn’t even bother with an explanation from me, he knew what I was up to. Seems that he was able to secure my release once he proved I was not a threat to national security, that I was only wanting to find Santa Claus. Sadly and with much regret, the deal for my release was finalized when the agents confiscated our two cases of Christmas brew. It is good to know that our government is still hard at work securing our great nation.