SECRET SANTA

I sat in the small office waiting for the shift manager to come in and cash me out for the night. One of the other drivers, Pedro a twenty something long-hair of Puerto Rican descent, stuck his head in the door. Pedro was a guy who had serious "issues" with God. He was mad at Him for the "4 years of wasted time, playing guitar in my church worship team and trying to be a good husband and father. The whole time, my wife was screwing around on me and what do I get an S- F...ing T- D and now I find out my daughter isn't even mine. God really sucks, you know. I could have been advancing my musical career in a real rock band and getting wasted, all the time instead of wasting all my time on God. Know what I mean, Dude?" Pedro and Jack, another driver who liked to be called Mike, lived together. Mike had taken Pedro in when it all hit the fan with his wife. This night, however, Pedro seemed excited, childlike and focused on something else.
"Dude, did you get your Secret Santa name yet?"
"Sorry Pete, don't know anything about Santa," I said, "and that goes for the Easter Bunny too."
"No, Dude, come on this is cool! We each pick a name out of a hat and then we have to buy that person a present for Christmas."
"As long as it's not Buddy's hat. I won't take anything out of there", I deadpanned.
Lizzie, the 19 year old shift manager came into the office and flopped into her chair. She took my money and receipts and asked what we were talking about?
"Dude, Lizzie, we were just talking about the Secret Santa," Pedro said excitedly.
"Oh Pedro, I know what Mike is getting you," she threw in coyly.
"Wait a second, you and Mike are roommates and you're also each others Secret Santas? How did that happen," I inquired?
"We didn't cheat, Dude. Just the luck of the draw, honest. I wouldn't lie about Santa, for real. Anyway, I'll just buy Mike a big ol' bag of dope."
Lizzie threw back her head and laughed. "That's so, so funny! That's what Mike said he's getting you. A big bag of dope!" They both continued to laugh at the irony. Visions of that Christmas morning and their version of re-gifting flashed through my mind. I grabbed my tip money and left.