Here we are gathered, the family round the table, eating well and drinking of the finest label. Father gives thanks for the people here seated, and mother she smiles at the food all heated. But then Aunt Janine takes a breath deep, to regale us with ideas of the version called creep. 'Praise the birth of our lord Jesus Christ, the messiah, the light, the father so Right.' Everyone shifted in their uncomfortable seats, avoiding eye contact, staring at the eats. Then the kid who sat on his butt, looked up at mom, and simply said, 'wat?' This is a story of modern Christmas day, wherein we open presents and are verily gay. Curious, then, to think of Aunt Janine, whose words might sound from an antiquated scene. Weird, you know, when you think of it now. Because Christmas we celebrate, we just forgot how. Hold the phone, readers of comics, I'm not pro Christian, nor economics. Buy all you want, or celebrate your Book. All I care about, is if you for me can cook.


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