Dusk was short; it was officially Christmas evening. He was late again today. In his book, that made him a re-tardy. Rest assured, this story occurred in less sensitive times, 1968; also, Christmas Cop is a dirty moist asswipe. If 1967 was the summer of love, 1968 was the year of regret and reconciliation. All this aside, Christmas Cop was late for a very special Christmas dinner.
Christmas jumped into his car, illegally parked in front of a fire hydrant. He put on his aviator shades, and sped off, sirens a-blaring, lights a-flashing. If white or yellow was green, there would have been a semblance of twinkling Christmas lights on crack. [FACT CHECK: Crack would not be invented for another twenty years.]