It was on the night of the 21, that the spirit of Christmas showed up, its actually me who came to pick him up at his bed of his death, give him a little tickle, spooky cookie and a trip around, my greedy man. He had no other choice, I mean what kind of Goddess am I for anyways, but for a little spirited last breath.



 Yes, he was a little grumpy, yes, he thought I was manipulative, since he was powerless to admit that I was the only one in his bed as the last night of him. My skin is a border, I wont sleep with anyone, oh, but his bed he was so intriguing to have him taken. I had to. "There is no other choice" And we all know the story of the Christmas Carol, by D*ckenson. What no one knows is that he swore his soul to mine, that much was likely to have me fancied, he liked how I showed him around and the children who seen him as a great generous God standing next to me, he invigorated becoming so gifted and young of spirit again and married me.