So – just Fed Ex the presents.
He could hitch a ride to the future with Percival Dunwoody, Idiot Time-Traveler and meet his own ghost.
On Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Agnew and Nixon!
I don’t know if she’s learning the business, but she’s sure giving him the business.
It’s a job for — GOD-MAN! (I miss him).
But if he did it, he’ll do three heavy years in the slammer.
Or – maybe that’s how Moon people dress.
Or – just call him “Bob”.
Well, at least it’s a change of pace from hitting the ball into the sand trap or the pond.