Christmas Eve, Sometime in the Future....

"Yap!" says Spot.

"No no no I’m not telling you!" says me.

"GRR," says Spot.

"STFU! You have to wait ‘til Christmas morning!" says me.

"Whine!" says Spot.

"Shh!" says me.

Spot wags his tail.

"I’m not telling!" says me.

Spot wags his tail.

"Nope," says me. "I won’t talk!"

Spot wags his tail.

"Stop that," says me.

Spot wags his tail.

I pretend to cave:

"Ok fine!" says me. "It’s a box of Pupperoni…"

Spot sniffs the package and growls.

I try misdirection:

"You got me. It’s a really a box of soggy old cigar butts," says me.

Spot howls.

I flat out lie:

"OK OK! Dangit! It’s a special-order New-Guinean dried-gourd phallocarp, custom made by highly skilled native craftsmen from only the finest materials expressly for a very spoiled dog!"

Spot starts tearing up.

I give up:

"Just kidding. It's a box of ham. Merry Christmas, Spot."

Spot runs around the room joyfully.

The End

((p.s. What's on your Christmas list this year?))