(xx) Sade Beats the Christmas Card Rap

Well sir, it's late afternoon as we enter the small house halfway up in the next block now. And here in the living room we find Vague and Young Russell. The latter's established the library table busily applying pencil to tablet paper, and the former newly arrived home from the office takes a seat on the Davenport remarking.

It gratifies and exalts me to see my beloved baby boy studying so diligently. Can you imagine me studying during summer vacation? You're not studying? Of course not. Depresses and touches me to see my beloved baby boy not studying.

I'm writing an insult and letter to Bluetooth Johnson. You and Bluetooth break up your beautiful friendship? We writing something letters back and forth just for the fun of it. Could read one Bluetooth anime today?

Not particularly. What time time I guess? Just left about ten minutes ago. Isn't it rather late in the afternoon to embark on a shopping expedition? She went away to escape Miss Freeley. Escape, Miss Freeley.

Christmas cards. More Christmas cards. Yes. Christmas cards sales on lurks behind every tree. Christmas cards sales on fall out of the sky like ripe plums. Why are we hounded by Christmas cards sales been in the blistering summertime?

They're thick, all right. But about Miss Freeley, I met her on my way home from Tatman's vacant lot and she told me to tell mom she might drop in on 4.30. This has really been her Christmas card day for mom.

And best out of the ball rolling. Could you read the letter that come this morning? Uh-uh. She says, Mate, I'm still waiting to hear if you're going to help me out with my Christmas card sales.