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Ain’t nothin’ says the holidays like the smell of cadaver.
Before now, I never heard of a Christmas tree causin’ anyone trouble. I’d blame Sam, but hell, I was with her when we bought it. Still, I should’ve known better, especially when her uncle Vinny mentioned the trees feel off a truck, AKA stolen.
Our cat was the one who found the middle finger danglin’ in the branches like a macabre decoration. I suggested we ignore the whole damn situation, but my wife insisted we get our money back.
Then, people start shootin’, a dead body shows up, and like always, we’re caught smack dab in the middle of the whole damn mess.
Thank God we got a few friends and family to help us out.
Frankie-the-hit-man, the cousins, the blue-haired ladies, and Patten Securities all join us in the holiday spirit.
With all the mayhem, I almost forgot to mention, Sam’s pregnant with our baby number two. For some reason, she neglected to tell me but the pukin’ was a clear give away.
