With Christmas creeping up on me and a lazy dog called Bob who won’t help we are a bit behind, here is Constance in a rerun of a Christmas story.
“I am sick of red and white,” Mrs Constance Claus grumbled. Summer, her snow white cat ignored her as she was busy washing her fur.
Constance noticed the snow falling in thick clumps and the cheery red lights from the workshop didn’t lessen her bad humour.
Enda, chief elf, scurried by with the inevitible list dangling from his hand. He stopped, pivoted about and stood before Constance. “Speaking of Red and white …we are out of both,” his grin was wide.
Constance used to his sneaky sense of humor, and trickery glanced at the red ink on the white paper and said, “I suppose you mean red ink and white paper.”
“Blast,” thought I had you fooled, “but yep you are correct. Could you order some please?”
Constance smiled, nodded, and promised she would order both red ink and white paper.
That evening Constance broached the topic of red and white with…
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