#Chapter190
With Christmas looming over his shoulder like an overbearing helicopter parent, and deadlines zigging and zagging cutting him up left and right like a lane drifter on the highway, it was safe to say that his festive spirit had flatlined. D.O.A The poor sucker never really stood a chance.
Hell, even as he ordered a pumpkin spiced latte, decked with gingerbread crumble and side helping of a cinnamon cookie, he couldn't find it within himself to sing along to the jolly jingle that chimed through the Starbucks. He didn't so much as tap a foot. The realisation of just how far away, a mere nine days, the big day was, settled down on him with depressing alacrity.
/"Birdie,/" he whined as they were handed their grandes, the big guy beaming at the little lady behind the counter and throwing a tip in the tinsel wrapped collection bucket. /"I don't know what to get you for Christmas!/"
