It was a dark and stormy Christmas Eve, just like it is almost every year. What were they thinking? Christmas should be in July.
I thought I was retired from working for the Big Man, but no. There was the text message in that green-on-red font. (How does he do that? Must be a deal with Apple.) I didn’t have to read the text; I could tell just listening to the howling wind outside. The weather was low and the kids hauling Santa’s bags to build their 1500 hours were in trouble. Santa was calling to the old dogs…meaning I had to go.
