Starsky questions the Wise Men’s logic and Hutch’s, too. Double drabble.
Tuning into All-Christmas-music-for-December station KJBC, Starsky gathered colorful paper, bows, and to/from labels to wrap presents. The happy Santa tunes and gorgeous church choir melodies put him in the proper holiday spirit.
Starsky hummed along to carols about a baby messiah his Jewish ancestors didn’t believe in and bounced in time to the more modern rock and roll Christmas songs by the Beatles, Beach Boys and The Boss.
“Do you see what I see?” warbled a soprano. “A child, a child shivers in the cold, let us bring him silver and gold…”
Hutch leaned against the archway between the kitchen and the den, adding his tenor to the mix, sipping coffee between verses. “Always loved that one.”
“Why’d they bring a baby silver and gold?” Starsky asked rhetorically.
“What?” Hutch stared at him, blue eyes bright as glaciers.
“Wouldn’t a blanket be more useful?” Starsky perched a bow atop his gift for Huggy. “Metal ain’t gonna keep him warm.”
“They could pay for the inn with gold and save the silver for Jesus’ future,” Hutch said sensibly.
“Not what I’d bring to a newborn.” Starsky rolled his eyes. “Maybe diapers?
“You write that song, and I’ll sing it.” Hutch laughed.
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