... And the frenzy begins. It's getting to where one can't step out into the parking-lot anymore without being hedged-in by others that hope you're going instead of coming, railroaded by oblivious shoppers fifteen abreast, or losing my favorite ear-drum to the keening shrieks of children reaching for the latest fuzzy, brightly-colored animatronic Tribble.
Your sentence is one month, no additional sanity for good behavior. Humbug, I say. I reject pop-Christmas, and wish it a frigid demise, buried in red ink.
HUMBUG!
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1 comment:
I knew I loved coming here, just certified. Giants or ogres or whatever I am grants me no license in these times. It is the time of the dwarves and their elvish mother keepers, all of them converted to Horde for the shopping binges. BAAAAHHHHH!
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