Daddo, Jimmy told me thaa-aat Sss-aanta (gulp)

  • Daddo, Jimmy told me thaa-aat Sss-aanta (gulp) iisn't for ree-eal. Tu-tell hu-him, Dadd-o... tttu-tell him th-hat's nuh-not tu-TRUE!

  • Urghh, Amanda.... there is something we should have told you sooner, probably 45 is not the best age to find out but........ Jimmy is right... Santa doesn't exist. I'm so sorry....

  • Amanda looked at Jimmy who nodded imperceptibly. "But I've got video surveillance, DNA sequences from cookie swabs..." "That was Jimmy wearing a Santa suit", I said.

  • "What about the prints we got back in '52 when Kringle forgot his gloves?" "Nope. Those burned up during the fire at Langley a few years ago." "Well, on December 25th, you'd better

  • excavate the old Xmas cartoons and films from the forbidden film archive (the tomb) so that children everywhere can watch the same reruns every year." "Is that how the tradition of

  • Arbor Day started?" the little boy asked. Ligbough The Bearded Tree said, "Well, I suppose that's a version of the story, but the one passed down from the Ancient Elms goes like

  • this. There was a lonely goddess called Doris who created trees to talk to. For thousands of years Doris and the trees chatted away until the evil Lord Chopper with his chainsaw

  • cut the trees down whilst laughing sadistically. It was a modified version of the Lorax tale, mind you, and Doris was spiraling into a state of depression greater than

  • twelve on the international Speckler Depression Scale, but clearly less than fifteen. The cartoon faces were sometimes difficult to distinguish from their neighbors. Her trees

  • were amateurish at best, scribbles of brown and green crayon that barely resembled a life form of any sort. She gave a melancholy sigh. Her art career was over.



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