2 iunie 2009

In another Christmas story, Dale Pearson, evil developer, self-absorbed woman hater, and seemingly unredeemable curmudgeon,might be visited in the night by a series of ghosts who, by showing him bleak visions of Christmas future, past, and present, would bring about in him a change to generosity, kindness, and a general warmth toward his fellow man. But this is not that kind of Christmas story, so here, in not too many pages, someone is going to dispatch the miserable son of a bitch with a shovel. That's the spirit of Christmas yet to come in these parts. Ho,ho,ho.


'So, a dead Santa,'said Tuck. 'Do you live around here?'
'I didn't mean to kill him. He was coming at me with a gun. I just ducked, and when I looked up-' She waved toward the pile of dead Kringle. 'I guess the shovel caught him in the throat'


'No, he wasn't looking for a particular kid, he was just looking for a kid.'
'Well, maybe he wanted to be a Big Brother or Secret Santa or something,'said Theo, expressing a faith in the goodness of man for which he had little or no evidence, 'do something nice for Christmas.'
'Goddamit Theo, you dumbfuck, you don't have to pry a priest off an altar boy with a crowbar to figure out that he's not helping the kid with a Rosary. The guy was a perv.'

Christopher Moore- The Stupidest Angel

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