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  • Original engleski Prevod srpski

    The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been
    anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to
    him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He
    was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last
    hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless
    man stepped through.

    Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his
    customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank
    you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy,
    I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly." George said.

    He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It
    ain't much, but it's hot and tasty ... Stew ... made it myself. When you're
    done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

    Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be
    right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam
    was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help
    me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and
    my car is broken."

    George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold,
    the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned

    "But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as
    he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old
    truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the
    garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was
    waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever
    looked at, but she runs real good."

    George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the
    night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the
    truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new." George
    thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos
    was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he
    got something in his belly," George thought.

    George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked
    slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had
    been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve
    meant no customers. He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just the
    bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to
    himself.. So he put a new one on.

    "Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter, either." He took the
    snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't
    going to drive the car anyway.

    As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a
    police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left
    shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."

    George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had
    received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention.
    "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been
    there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct
    tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said,
    trying to make the policeman feel at ease.

    "Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for
    his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the
    policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance."

    The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk
    box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into
    the dashboard destroying the two way radio.

    He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the
    officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the

    George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army
    and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for
    bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through ya. Good
    thing it missed the important stuff, though. I think with time you're gonna
    be right as rain."

    George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked.
    "None for me," said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the
    city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the
    same time

    The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun.
    "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was
    shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this

    "That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.

    "Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon
    away. Somebody else might get hurt."

    The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now
    give me the cash!"

    The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the
    cop, "we got one too many in here now."

    He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve.. If you
    need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that
    pee shooter away."

    George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man,
    reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released
    his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good
    at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he
    went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week"

    George handed the gun to the cop. Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now
    and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we

    He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from
    the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup
    of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in
    here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort
    this thing out."

    The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot
    you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer."

    "Shut up and drink your coffee." the cop said.

    George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an
    ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn.
    "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.

    "Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"

    "GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the
    other cop asked as he approached the young man.

    Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just
    dropped his gun and ran."

    George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.

    "That guy work here?" the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said, "just
    hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

    The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man
    leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

    Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas, boy ... and you too, George, and thanks
    for everything."

    "Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve
    some of your problems."

    George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring
    box. "Here you go, something for the little woman I don't think Martha would
    mind. She said it would come in handy some day."

    The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I
    can't take this," said the young man, "It means something to you."

    "And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories.
    That's all I need."

    George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared
    next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's
    something for that little man of yours."

    The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man
    had handed him earlier.

    "And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too,"
    George said, "Now get home to your family."

    The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in
    the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."

    "Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

    George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you
    come from? I thought you left?"

    "I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you
    don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"

    "Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother
    was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin'
    cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and
    besides I was gettin' a little chubby."

    The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the
    holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold
    and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great
    doctor. The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being
    killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a
    rich man and not take any for himself. That is the spirit of the season and
    you keep it as good as any man."

    George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know
    all this?" asked the old man.

    "Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when
    your days are done you will be with Martha again."

    The stranger moved toward the door "If you will excuse me, George, I have to
    go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."

    George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the
    stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill
    the room.

    "You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

    George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord."

    ~ author unknown

    Starac je sedeo na svojoj benzinskoj pumpi na hladno Badnje veče. Nije bio
    bilo gde u godinama otkako mu je žena umrla. Bio je to samo još jedan dan
    nego. Nije mrzeo Božić, samo nije mogao da nađe razlog za slavlje. On
    sedeo i gledao sneg koji je padao poslednji put
    čas i pitajući se o čemu se radilo kad su se vrata otvorila i beskućnik
    čovek je iskoračio.

    Umesto da izbaci čoveka, starog Đorđa kako su ga zvali
    mušterije, rekao čoveku da dođe da sedne pored grejalice i da se zagreje. "Zahvaliti
    ti, ali ne želim da ti smetam", reče stranac. "Vidim da si zauzet,
    Samo ću otići." „Ne bez nečeg vrućeg u stomaku", rekao je Džordž.

    Okrenuo se i otvorio široku termosicu i pružio je strancu. "To
    nije mnogo, ali je ljuto i ukusno... Gulaš... sam napravio. Kada si ti
    gotovo, ima kafe i sveže je“.

    Upravo u tom trenutku začuo je "zvonjenje" zvona na prilazu. „Izvinite, budite
    odmah nazad", rekao je Džordž. Tamo na prilazu je bio stari Chevi iz 53. Steam
    kotrljao se sa fronta. Vozač je bio uspaničen. „Gospodine možete li pomoći
    ja!“ rekao je vozač sa dubokim španskim naglaskom. „Moja žena je trudna i
    moj auto je pokvaren."

    Džordž je otvorio haubu. Bilo je loše. Blok je izgledao napukao od hladnoće,
    auto je bio mrtav. "Ne ideš u ovu stvar", rekao je Džordž dok se okretao

    "Ali gospodine, molim vas pomozite..." Vrata kancelarije su se zatvorila iza Džordža kao
    ušao je unutra. Otišao je do kancelarijskog zida i uzeo ključeve od svog starog
    kamion, i vratio se napolje. Obišao je zgradu, otvorio
    garažu, pokrenuo kamion i odvezao ga do mesta gde je par bio
    čekajući. "Evo, uzmi moj kamion", rekao je. „Ona nije najbolja stvar koju si ikada
    pogledana, ali ona dobro radi."

    Džordž je pomogao da se žena stavi u kamion i gledao kako je uleteo u kamion
    noć. Okrenuo se i ušao u kancelariju. „Drago mi je što sam im dao
    kamion, i njihove gume su pucane. Taj stari kamion ima potpuno nov." Džordž
    mislio da razgovara sa strancem, ali čovek je otišao. Thermos
    je bio na stolu, prazan, sa iskorišćenom šoljicom za kafu pored. „Pa, barem on
    dobio nešto u stomaku“, pomisli Džordž.

    Džordž se vratio napolje da vidi da li će stari Chevi upaliti. Zakrenuo je
    polako, ali je počelo. Uvukao ga je u garažu gde je bio kamion
    bio. Mislio je da će se pomučiti oko toga da bi nešto uradio. Badnje veče
    značilo da nema kupaca. Otkrio je da blok nije napukao, već samo
    donje crevo na radijatoru. "Pa, pucaj, mogu ovo da popravim", rekao je
    sebe.. Pa stavio novu.

    "Ni te gume neće izdržati zimu." On je uzeo
    sneg gazi sa starog Linkolna njegove žene. One su bile kao nove, a on nije
    ipak će voziti auto.

    Dok je radio, čuo je pucnje. Istrčao je napolje i pored a
    policijski auto policajac je ležao na hladnom tlu. Krvarenje sa leve strane
    ramenu, oficir je zastenjao: "Molim vas, pomozite mi."

    Džordž je pomogao oficiru da uđe dok se sećao obuke koju je prošao
    primljen u vojsku kao lekar. Znao je da rani treba obratiti pažnju.
    „Pritisak da se krvarenje zaustavi“, pomislio je. Četa uniformi je bila
    tamo tog jutra i ostavio čiste peškire. Koristio je one i kanale
    traka za vezivanje rane. "Hej, kažu da selotejp može sve popraviti", rekao je,
    pokušavajući da se policajac oseća opušteno.

    „Nešto za bol“, pomisli Džordž. Sve što je imao su pilule koje je koristio
    njegova leđa. "Ove bi trebalo da rade." Stavio je malo vode u šolju i dao
    policajac tablete. „Vi se izdržite, idem po hitnu pomoć.

    Telefon je bio mrtav. „Možda mogu da navedem nekog od tvojih prijatelja o tom razgovoru
    kutiju u tvom autu." Izašao je samo da bi otkrio da je u njega ušao metak
    kontrolna tabla uništava dvosmerni radio.

    Vratio se i zatekao policajca kako sedi. "Hvala", rekao je
    oficir. „Mogao si da me ostaviš tamo. Tip koji me je upucao je još uvek u kući

    Džordž je seo pored njega: „Nikada ne bih ostavio povređenog čoveka u vojsci
    i neću te ostaviti." Džordž je povukao zavoj da proveri da li ima
    krvarenja. „Izgleda gore nego što jeste. Metak je prošao pravo kroz tebe. Dobro
    stvar je ipak propustila važne stvari. Mislim da ćeš s vremenom
    biti ispravan kao kiša“.

    Džordž je ustao i sipao kafu. "Kako to prihvatate?" upitao.
    „Za mene ništa“, rekao je oficir. „Oh, ti ćeš popiti ovo. Najbolje
    grad. Šteta što nemam krofne." Policajac se nasmejao i trgnuo se
    Isto vreme

    Ulazna vrata kancelarije su se otvorila. Upao je mladić sa pištoljem.
    "Daj mi sav svoj novac! Uradi to odmah!" — viknuo je mladić. Njegova ruka je bila
    tresući se i Džordž je mogao da kaže da nikada nije uradio ništa slično
    pre nego što.

    "To je tip koji me je upucao!" — uzviknu oficir.

    "Sine, zašto to radiš?" upita Đorđe: „Treba staviti top
    daleko. Neko drugi bi mogao biti povređen."

    Mladić je bio zbunjen. „Umukni stari, ili ću i ja tebe upucati. Sad
    daj mi gotovinu!"

    Policajac je posegao za svojim pištoljem. "Skloni tu stvar", rekao je Džordž
    pandur, "imamo jednog previše ovde sada."

    Skrenuo je pažnju na mladića. „Sine, Badnje veče je.. Ako ti
    treba novac, pa onda, evo. Nije mnogo, ali to je sve što imam. Sad stavi to
    piški strelac daleko“.

    Džordž je izvukao 150 dolara iz džepa i pružio ga mladiću,
    dohvativši istovremeno cev pištolja. Mladić je pušten
    držao pištolj, pao na kolena i počeo da plače. "Nisam baš dobar
    u ovo sam ja? Sve što sam želeo je da kupim nešto svojoj ženi i sinu", rekao je on
    je nastavio. „Izgubio sam posao, plaćam kiriju, auto mi je oduzet prošle nedelje“

    Džordž je predao pištolj policajcu. Sine, sad smo svi malo u stisci
    i onda. Put ponekad postaje težak, ali mi se najbolje snalazimo

    Podigao je mladića na noge i poseo ga na stolicu preko puta
    policajac. "Ponekad radimo gluposti." Đorđe pruži mladiću šolju
    kafe. „Biti glup je jedna od stvari koja nas čini ljudima. Uđi
    ovde sa pištoljem nije odgovor. Sad sedi tu i ugrej se i sredićemo
    ova stvar napolje."

    Mladić je prestao da plače. Pogledao je policajca. „Izvini što sam pucao
    ti. Samo se upalilo. Žao mi je policajče."

    „Ćuti i popi kafu. rekao je policajac.

    Džordž je mogao da čuje zvuke sirena napolju. Policijski automobil i
    kola hitne pomoći su se zaustavila. Dva policajca su ušla kroz vrata, izvučeni pištolji.
    "Čak! Jesi li dobro?" upitao je jedan od policajaca ranjenog oficira.

    "Nije loše za tipa koji je dobio metak. Kako si me našao?"

    „GPS lokator u kolima. Najbolja stvar od narezanog hleba. Ko je ovo uradio?“ the
    upitao je drugi policajac dok je prilazio mladiću.

    Čak mu je odgovorio: „Ne znam. Momak je pobegao u mrak. Samo
    ispustio pištolj i pobegao."

    Džordž i mladić su se zbunjeno pogledali.

    "Taj tip radi ovde?" nastavio je ranjeni pandur. „Da“, rekao je Džordž, „samo
    unajmio ga je jutros. Dečak je ostao bez posla."

    Bolničari su ušli i natovarili Chucka na nosila. Mladić
    nagnuo se nad ranjenog policajca i šapnuo: "Zašto?"

    Čak je upravo rekao: „Srećan Božić, dečko... i tebi, Džordž, i hvala
    za sve."

    „Pa, izgleda da imaš jednu pauzu. To bi trebalo da reši
    neke od vaših problema."

    Džordž je otišao u zadnju sobu i izašao sa kutijom. Izvukao je prsten
    kutija. „Izvolite, nešto za malu ženu, mislim da Marta ne bi
    umu. Rekla je da će mi to jednog dana dobro doći."

    Mladić je pogledao unutra da vidi najveći dijamantski prsten koji je ikada video. „Ja
    ne mogu ovo da podnesem", reče mladić, "to ti nešto znači."

    „A sada ti to nešto znači“, odgovori Đorđe. „Imam svoja sećanja.
    To je sve što je potrebno."

    Džordž je ponovo posegnuo u kutiju. Pojavili su se avion, automobil i kamion
    sledeći. Bile su to igračke koje mu je naftna kompanija ostavila da proda. „Evo
    nešto za tog tvog malog čoveka“.

    Mladić je ponovo počeo da plače dok je vraćao starcu 150 dolara
    mu je ranije predao.

    "A čime ćeš da kupiš božićnu večeru? Zadrži i to",
    Džordž je rekao: "Sada se vrati kući svojoj porodici."

    Mladić se okrenuo sa suzama koje su mu tekle niz lice. „Biću ovde unutra
    jutro na posao, ako je ta ponuda za posao još dobra“.

    "Ne. Zatvoren sam na Božić", rekao je Džordž. "Vidimo se sutradan."

    Džordž se okrenuo i otkrio da se stranac vratio. „Gde si bio
    dolaze iz? Mislio sam da si otišao?"

    "Bio sam ovde. Uvek sam bio ovde", rekao je stranac. „Kažeš ti
    ne slavi Božić. Zašto?"

    „Pa, nakon što mi je žena umrla, jednostavno nisam mogao da vidim šta sve muči
    bio. Podigao drvo i sve je izgledalo kao gubitak dobrog bora. pečenje
    kolačići kao što sam nekada bio sa Martom jednostavno više nisu bili isti za sebe i
    osim toga, postajao sam malo bucmast."

    Stranac je stavio ruku na Džordžovo rame. „Ali vi slavite
    praznik, Đorđe. Dao si mi hranu i piće i zagrejao me kad mi je bilo hladno
    i gladan. Žena sa detetom će roditi sina i on će postati veliki
    doktore. Policajac kome ste pomogli nastaviće da spasava 19 ljudi
    ubili teroristi. Mladić koji je pokušao da vas opljačka učiniće od vas a
    bogataša i ne uzima ni jedan za sebe. To je duh sezone i
    čuvaš ga dobro kao i svaki čovek“.

    Džordž je bio zatečen svime što je ovaj stranac rekao. „A kako znaš
    sve ovo?" upita starac.

    „Veruj mi, Džordž. Imam uvid u ovakve stvari. I kada
    tvoji dani su gotovi, bićeš ponovo sa Martom“.

    Stranac je krenuo prema vratima „Izvini me, Džordž, moram
    Idi sada. Moram da idem kući gde je planirano veliko slavlje“.

    Džordž je posmatrao staru kožnu jaknu i pocepane pantalone
    stranac je nosio pretvoren u belu haljinu. Zlatna svetlost je počela da se puni

    "Vidiš, Džordž... moj je rođendan. Srećan Božić."

    Džordž je pao na kolena i odgovorio: "Srećan rođendan, Gospode."

    ~ autor nepoznat

  • Original engleski Prevod srpski



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