It was just like Christmas. I finished urinating on the Mother Church, then we headed over to Fenway for to do some trespassing.

Snowflakes fell and swirled in the breeze, their eddies making that ugly fluorescent light seem pretty, so pretty.

The crash of duckpins resounded through the night, and hipsters flashed jazz hands at one another.

It was just like Christmas. Not one insalata 3ndy could be found.