“Why are there so many people out here?' Boomer asked as we bobbed and weaved roughly forward.'Christmas shopping.' I explained.'Already? Isn't it early to returning things?'I really had no sense of how his mind worked.”

“Christmas shopping! I can do all my Christmas shopping here! I know March is a bit early, but why not be organized? And then when Christmas arrives I won't have to go near the horrible Christmas crowds.”

“You were in Sweden?" Boomer asked."No," I said. "The trip got called off at the last minute. Because of political the unrest""In Sweden?" Priya seemed skeptical."Yeah-isn't it strange how the Times isn't covering it? Half the country's on strike because of that thing the crown prince said about Pippi Longstocking Which means no meatballs for Christmas, if you know what I mean.""That's so sad!" Boomer said.”

“His chin jutted forward in a rather pugnacious manner. "I should not have to explain myself to my wife.""And I should not have to ask for an explanation. Yet here we are.”

“The stores along Hollywood Boulevard were already beginning to fill up with overpriced Christmas junk, and the daily papers were beginning to scream about how terrible- it would be if you didn't get your Christmas shopping done early.”

“And how did little Tim behave?” asked Mrs Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart’s content. “As good as gold,” said Bob, “and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see.”