At Least You’re In Front Of Him
Remember the house in your hometown that went apeshit for Christmas? Wired up the house to a nuclear reactor and lit the sucker up so bright pilots were blinded miles away? There were snowmen, and snowwomen, and snowchildren (which obviously implies snowfucking, but that’s a different topic) on the lawn and Rudolph’s nose was a diode the size of a basketball focused through a neon-copper gain medium. (Funny science story: turns out that’s a death ray.)
You loved that house, and so did all the visitors, and so did all the news crews who liked to use the lights for some instant production value.
The neighbors, though? If they had a tenth of a chance, they’d nuke that place from orbit. No one wants to live next to other people’s’ fun.