The Kringle Embargo
Ever since Mom and Dad died, he's ignored me.
But I was good all this year. I was. No kidnappings. No poisonings. No live experiments.
I was good, you fat, arbitrary cur. And still you leave me nothing under the tree.
Curse you and your ridiculous beard, Santa. By this time next year, I'll see you dead.
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December 19, 2005
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I can tell no one "informed" you about the "magic" of Christmas...
Posted by: Esme Washington | December 19, 2005 at 05:17 PM