22 Apr 2018
“'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”
The voice came through on the wireless, low, warm, and crackling a bit with the distance in counterpoint to the fire going in the living room.
"It's a bit of an insult, don't you think," Clementine Amaretti said, punching down the dough for what was destined to become six very fine loaves of white bread, "that they only consider the creatures in that tale? What of the people? Or the inanimate objects? I have it on very good authority that there was an overnight roast going in that house, do you think it wasn't moving?"
The dough, wisely, remained silent.