"The smells of Christmas are the smells of childhood." - Richard Paul Evans, The Christmas Box
DEDICATION: -technicalities- for helping me write this chapter! <3
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"If you were a triangle, you'd be acute one."
"Sorry dude, I know I'm adorable, but I don't bat for the other team."
"Mozzarella? Since when did your voice become so deep?"
"Uh, because testosterone is running through my veins?"
"Holy mother of parmesan mac and cheese."
"Aye, now he gets it!"
"Are you Oliver Twist?"
"Wait, how do you know who I am? Have you been stalking me? You have, haven't you? You didn't watch what I was doing Friday night, did you? Holy shit, please tell me you didn't."
"What were you doing Friday night?"
"None of your beeswax!"
"Uh, okay the-"
"Okay, I was binge watching Barbie movies during my night shift!"
"..."
"..."
"Holy mother of mozzarella sticks."
"Since when have I been holy? Or a mother? Or a mozzarella stick?"
"Since I said so. Also, 'mozzarella sticks' has become one of my catchphrases after your co-worker named me after a rat."
"Chipmunks aren't rats."
"How the hell did you-"
"When you have ears, you put them to good use."
"Oh, fuck my life."
"I bet you'd look so cute munching on celery!"
"You do know that I'm not an actual chipmunk, right?"
"Hey, as long as I haven't seen you in person, I can let my imagination run wild."
"I want to facepalm myself with a table."
"Can I write your eulogy?"
"No."
"Aw, you're no fun."
YOU ARE READING
Snow Boots (#3)
Short Story"You've reached Westerden Ski Lodge, how may I be of assistance?" "Hey, can I rent some snow boots and skis? Maybe even a girlfriend, if you've got any in stock." "Awesome, do you want to order a life along with that? The gift wrapping's free of...
