A Viral Little Christmas (NYC, March 2020)

Chapter 2

Henry put the last of the Panacea Cookie Assortment – 100 dozen in all – into Jerri's basket, the last of the Sweet Riders Team to be loaded. They were to be delivered to Mount Sinai Hospital, for the healthcare workers. He'd gotten the idea for Cookies for Caregivers from his cousin Megan in Virginia, who first spearheaded the concept at her Bakery Haute Cakes, with tremendous success. A portion of all his sales during the quarantine went to fund the project, and while it wasn't PPE, his Sweet Riders' deliveries were always warmly welcomed. He'd even managed to get Jean Tinley of Jean's Cuppa Joe to agree to supply thousands of thermoses of premium coffee with every delivery.

"Oooooo, girlfriend," chimed Benny Bright, "You get to see that sweet-faced intern again!"

"His name," said Jerri, "is Darren. It's on his name badge. And he doesn't even know I'm alive."

"His name badge is clipped to his pants pocket, and let me tell you..."

A rainbow-striped whistle blew, held by 16-year-old 6'1" tall Maxine, who growled. "Leave Jerri alone, Benny. Let's get going, people! We've got weary warriors to cheer up! Get masked, sweethearts, and let's ride!" They all donned their masks, which were dyed in various day-glo colors.

Twelve cookie-laden bikes turned about and made their way, two-by-two, uptown. Bringing up the rear was the thirteenth member (a baker's dozen, for luck) on roller skates rather than a bicycle – 73-year-old Rollerena Two-tu. She'd been a protégé of the original and had appointed herself the 'Toothsome Fairy Godmother' of the Sweet Riders. With her overseeing them on big deliveries, Henry breathed a little easier. In real life, she was Mr. Kieran O'Reilly, retired police officer and a number one fan of Tomcakes, Henry's signature creation. Technically he was number two, the number one fan really being Klaus Nicholasson, aka Santa Claus.

He went inside Sweet Surrender's back door, into the warmth and enticing aromas of his kitchen. Pete Jimenez was talking to his wife Anitra while stirring birthday cake batter for the daughter of a big Broadway star whose hit show was on temporary hiatus. The front of the store had two occupants, and they sat at a table for two, in violation of the 6-foot distance rule: NYC Drag Empress Vanilla Gorilla, Henry's BFF (and Tom's uncle), and Bitcha Bi-Golly, heiress apparent. They were armed with needle, thread and scissors, making masks for distribution to the homeless, using material from outfits donated by the members of their singing group, The Holiday Hoes.

They were there for the peace and quiet, they claimed. But it was probably the fact that they had easy access to the 'day-old' baked goods that customers had either cancelled, or because they'd had leftover batter that wouldn't keep and made it into pastries anyway. Also, because the best DJ in the city had put together the shop's musical soundtracks. Henry was glad for their company.

"How are you holdin' up, hon?" asked Vanny. He was currently sewing bits of feather boa on the rim of a face mask. "Are the kids driving Tom crazy?"

"No, Vanny, I'm okay. We have plenty of food, we're okay on TP, and the kids are busy with e-school and games and Skyping or Zooming friends. It's the other way around – I hear Tom's driving them crazy!"

"Darlin'," drawled Bi-Golly, "Can yooze spare a roll for a poor girl who's..."

"...FULL of shit!" finished Vanilla. They both roared with laughter. "Henry, he drives us all crazy, but he's just worried about us, is all. It's an invisible enemy out there," he said while threading a fringe of bugle beads on another mask.

"It's like glittah," whispered Bi-Golly, "Ya know, when yooze walk into a Joann's or Michael's craft stoah. Ya always leave with glittah on ya somewheah! And it just gets everywheah!"

Henry returned to the kitchen, and helped Pete form the cookie dough into 2-inch balls, then placed them on one of a dozen baking trays. He knew something that Bi-Golly and Pete did not – that both Tom and Vanny were immune to disease, a bonus of their Claus heritage. It was a great relief, not having to worry about them. He began putting the trays into the ovens, and thought about what Santa's Workshop did in its downtime – wait, did the elven workers even get any downtime?

"You're doing it again," said Pete, adding cocoa to the Salted Caramel Belly Buster Brownie batter, for a Brownie Buddha gift box.

"Hmm?" Henry began cracking eggs into a massive mixing bowl.

"Humming Christmas carols," he answered. "Don't stop on my account. We could use a little Christmas now. Folks are frightened, and even if we'd have to wipe down presents with disinfecting wipes, it would bring out the best in us all, you know, warm and fuzzy feels, goodwill and such."

From the front of the store, Vanny and Bi-Golly burst out in the now infamous Christmas song from 'MAME.' Adding off-color impromptu lyrics, of course. After he'd finished whipping up a meringue, Henry handed it over to Pete, rejoining the two fabulous friends in the front.

"Hey, Vanny – do you think you could cajole the Fa-La-Lolas to sing some Christmas carols around town? Could they social distance and still hear each other well enough to sing in harmony?" Henry watched as Bi-Golly put her hand to her mouth, feigning shock, and the smile on Vanny's face could banish the darkness from Moscow Mitch's black heart.

"Well now, if I were an expert in persuasion..." began Vanilla Gorilla.

"But ya are, Vanny, ya are..." chimed both Henry and Bi-Golly.

"And if I were charming and irresistible and oh-so-gently intimidating..."

Pete called out from the back room – "But ya are, Vanny, ya are..."

"I would say that you call a press conference, because the Lolas are coming to town, to chase those Corona blues away, child!"

A few hours later, in front of the store, Henry asked Vanny why Santa hadn't stepped up when the virus hit. "It would seem the perfect time to, say, give the world a gift," he'd said, "So why hasn't he?"

The normally cheerful demeanor fell away like melting snow as Vanny sighed. "Darling," he said in a serious tone, "There are rules you cannot break. Your little Alice is going to ask that of my brother himself tonight. No – don't ask me how I know! I may not have inherited the suit, I may not see you when you're sleeping, but I know when someone's woke! Now go home to my nephew, and get busy!"

Vanny was still whistling "We Need A Little Christmas" when Henry lost sight of him, walking with attitude up Madison Avenue.