Tonight, around 8:00 in the evening we noticed Roswell wobbling across the living room floor like a twelve pound seal on a mission -- a four inch angel sticking out of her mouth like a dead rat with a three day rigor mortis. She ignored us and vanished under the sofa, returning a moment later empty mouthed and looking guiltless, but for the great clouds of dust adhered to her whiskers. Roswell has a way of pulling prizes out of the trash, visitors' purses, or your sock drawer and relocating them to places that fit her aesthetics. Upon closer inspection, we discovered she'd diligently carried away all the occupants of the manger under our Christmas tree, save for the baby Jesus and Robby the Robot who stood, implacable as always, in a far corner ringed by straw.
Trillian stuck her head under the sofa and began sliding out a quarter of the population of Bethlehem, two missing remote controls, and about forty catnip mice. "Hey!" she said suddenly, "Look what I found!"
She crawled back out with a package in her hand. "There's that sexy santa outfit under here!"
Trillian put the santa outfit on, we sat down on the sofa and watched Wild Target on Netflix, which was really delightful.
"We probably should take a picture of this outfit," she said after the movie.
It was predestined.
Whatever you celebrate, Happy Solstice, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Saturnalia, Merry Christmas, happy winter and have a wonderful tomorrow from all of us at the Blimp Mooring Station high atop Fortress Hennepin.
Clickenzee to Embiggen!
Add me: [LiveJournal] [Facebook] [Twitter] [Google+] [Tumblr]