Beginning to Look a Little Like Christmas

Sitting on the just dusted hardwood floor, Danger Doom on the b-Pod (ask him could he bark on the beat and spark calli/villain not the cat you want to meet in a dark alley), gazing up at the pale pink lights strung around the Charlie Brown tree (only now noticing that half the string is dead, but who besides pets doesn't neglect the bottom of the fake fir, far from the angels and the stars). Images flash silently across the television set, I should just turn it off but the distraction is a crutch, better used for balance than illumination. And just like that, I pack my hockey bag and head out to my men's league game, half past nine on a biting Tuesday night.