“Stepping on a Lego ain’t nothin’. Try steppin’ on live coral!” the old man grinned, “Ain’t never seen a piece of plastic cause a life threatenin’ infection like they can.”
He held up his right foot, showing-off the scars the healed infection had left.
Oh, London, England, how you fool me every time. Stepped into one of your big, charmingly red phone booths and found myself teleporting through space, caught in a futuristic gun-battle between H.G. Wells and Gene Roddenberry, that George Lucas eventually won.
Christmas came, Christmas went and still “Frosty,’ sang and danced about the countryside. The avowed bachelor decided to put a stop to it. Besides, he had a use for that old silk hat. She was waiting in his bedroom, yet to be filled with air.
Eve of Christmas:
All presents opened,
Dinner is eaten,
Family, friends gone.
I find myself both
Satisfied and let down.
Tommy secreted his way to his bedroom to cry, once he discovered his fall from grace. After all, he was the one one who had a stocking filled with coal.
“See?” mother offered, “I told you Santa would get your letter even though you misspelled his name.”
The little girl blushed, recalling how she had printed ‘Satan,’ instead of ‘Santa.’ She loved her Christmas gift; a little dolly with blond hair and blue eyes like her own.
She fell asleep in bed that night clutching her little dolly tightly to her chest. She woke at 3:13 am, with little dolly tightly clutching her throat.
While taking an Uber, the driver explains, “I love my job, I’m my own boss, and nobody tells me what to do.”
“Turn here,” her passenger interrupts.
The Old Blog in the Desert 