Here's a quick one off the top of my head.
A young man (18) wearing dirty, tattered clothes walks into the last remaining department store in his depressed, Rust-Belt town.
Looking sad...hopeless...and in deep despair... waits in line behind dozens of kids, all less than half his age.
He's ashamed...but fights the urge to run....as this may be his last chance to turn his life...and his mother's life...around for good.
So he waits...and waits....and waits.
As he hears each second ticking away on the big, central store clock...he prays.
One chance. That's all they need. One chance. One small slice of hope.
Just one. That's all he'd ask for.
The store announces that it's closing soon.
The lights start to dim.
The young man closes his eyes...clenches his fists...and begs the universe one last time.
Please....please let me ask him.
Please.
As he reopens his eyes, he sees the young, zit-faced department store elf waving him forward.
He swallows the lump that had grown in his throat...as tears begin to well up in his tired, desperate eyes.
Steeling his nerve...he steps forward.
Welcome, my lad. You'll be my last, lucky friend for today...and for the season.
So, as I do every year....I'll grant you whatever you ask for.
So tell me, my boy...I have the feeling that you're in great needs.
Tell me...ask me...and I'll make it so.
It's not for me, the boy starts. Well...it's not JUST for me. It's for my Mom, but we live together, so we both need your help with this.
The jolly man in red wasn't sure where this was going, but he could sense that he'd soon be asked for more than a Red-Rider BB gun.
Go on, boy. Tell Santa what you need this Christmas.
Closing his eyes one last time...the boy took a deep breath and thought of her. His Mom. His best friend. His one and only love.
He pictured her sweet, warm, brown eyes. Her long, black, with ever increasing streaks of grey. Her soft, full, promising lips.
He imagined her at home....shivering from the cold...her huge, pendulous breasts heaving in response. She needed him. He needed her.
And now....they both needed help from the man in Red.
Santa...My Mom....she...she really needs a chance. A chance to work. To feel useful again...and to make money to keep our lights on. My job at the garage just isn't enough. Please. Please, Santa. Can you....can you help find her a job?
The old elf could see the desperation all over this kid. He wanted to help, but in this town...in this economy....good paying jobs just didn't seem to exist anymore. He hated to admit it to himself, but he knew....there were no jobs to be had in the sad little town.
But he did have one thing.
His pay for that day. An envelope with $200 cash. Not much, he realized, but it was the best he could do.
Then...reaching into his pocket...he pulls the bent, creased envelope and hands it to the boy.
What? What's this, Santa? Cash? Your cash? I....she...we...couldn't accept this from you. She doesn't want charity...she just needs a job.
"Oh..." unsaintly Nick responded....it's not charity. It's an advance...for a job she can start tonight, helping me relax after a hard, long Christmas night.
REALLY? A real, honest job? Helping you? I...I can't believe it. Thank you. Thank you so much, Santa.
So...what will her new job title be?
As a soft light flickered in Santa's eyes he simply said... Tell your Mother that, starting tonight...from now on...she'll be riding Santa's very own North Pole as my newest... Ho! Ho! Ho!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!