It was Christmas Eve. Chuck sat deftly in the dale, sipping pernicious eggnog.
He looked at the opalescent dragon hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Sarah had hung it there, just before they looked at each other terribly and then fell into each other's arms and transcended each other's earlobe.
If only I hadn't been so charismatic, Chuck thought, pouring a fecund amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Sarah might not have got so never-ending and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away a triumphant tear and held his shin in his hand.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a legendary voice lifted swiftly up in song.
I'm dreaming of a portable Christmas
Just like an inanimate object being lovingly cuddled by two estranged sisters that have found common ground for the first time in 15 years.
Chuck ran to the door. It was Sarah, looking dogged all over with snow.
"I missed you idly," Sarah said. "And I wanted to transcend your earlobe again."
Chuck hugged Sarah and started to sob.
"I think you're drunk," Sarah said.
"I think so too," Chuck said and they transcended each other's earlobe until they knocked the Christmas tree over.
On Christmas Day, they ate roasted octopus left knee and lived crookedly until Chuck got drunk again.
LOOK! I MADE YOU A DRABBLE!
...okay, maaaaybe it came from this, but I made it for YOUUUUU. Don't you feel special?
Okay, I'll see myself out now.