My Cardboard Balcony

I Suffered The Post-Christmas Coma by Belinda Roddie I suffered the post-Christmas coma, as I dealt with bloating from the dinner and withstood a headache from too much cider. The holiday season was not over quite yet, as the new year was approaching, and technically, the twelfth day of Yule was on the sixth of January. So I'd drink again and eat until my jaw ached, and I would indulge in the warming company of my friends and family. Yes, soon I would recover from the trance that Christmas dragged me into. Much as I preferred a break from the festive fever, a little more cheer? That I could endure.

We tried to sell the car to the best buyer, but to no avail. It didn't matter how much we knocked down the price. Ultimately, during the aftermath of Christmas, all we could do was haul it off for a solid seven thousand dollars to an old, frumpy man with a contagious smile and probably even more contagious head cold, which he tried to contain within a very spotted handkerchief. "My son will love this," he gurgled as he hopped into the car and I heard the clanging of my manager's heart settling against his belt buckle.