My white hair and beard, I can't help. The round belly, perhaps. The red shirt, I admit, was a mistake.
I didn't know my new neighbour had moved in, and worse yet...
“Look, Mummy! Santa!” screeched thirty pounds of unrestrained, dirty boy. I noticed most of my plants were shredded wherever he'd reached through the fence.
From bad beginnings, it's escalated. Ignore him as I might, Kid's taunted, thrown things, and damaged my garden whenever he can.
Okay. I guess I can be Santa. This paint set that I’m wrapping has a big tube of red that never washes out...