by Ronan
‘Twas the night before Christmas and out in the kitchen, mom’s cooking something, and man, it smells bitchin’.
The stockings are hung by the chimney with care. Mine’s full of jerky treats – I can smell them from here.
Dad’s drinking egg nog, all spicy and sweet. A couple more cups and he’ll be out on his feet.
When out in the yard we heard such a racket. I started barking and Dad grabbed his jacket. Full story »
