Merry Christmas!

I was momentarily frightened, but I had no reason to be.

I was sitting here at my computer, mulling over my fate and regretting that no one would ever get to see my "Decisions, Decisions" entry when I was jolted out of my doldrums by the wail of a nearby siren.

That Decisions entry, by the by, was without doubt the finest entry I've written. It was filled with rollicking humor, pathos, and not a small touch of the insight for which Crenellated Flotsam is so highly regarded. It was, in short, a work of inspired genius whose like may never be seen again.

As fortune would have it, just before I hit the button to publish it, my browser crashed and all was lost. Too bad I compose these things through the browser and not offline in, say, some manner of writing program.

But the siren intrigued me, if just for a second. It was shortly followed by a rumble, the likes of which could only come from a heavy diesel engine. My room was filled with the flashes of light that accompany emergency vehicles, and, sure enough, a large fire truck was rumbling down my street. Right here in the neighborhood, and not two hours after the rain let up!

I thought a fire unlikely, given the circumstances, but you can never tell what holiday celebrations can turn into. My excitement was dulled, however, when the loudspeaker on the fire truck began calling out "Merry Christmas!"

I looked out the window (curious beast that I am) and they slowly drove past. A few houses later, they used their PA to call "Merry Christmas!" again, and I began to notice a pattern.

I can still hear them now, both their intermittent siren and their shouts of well-meaning joy,  and I'm not sure if it's filling with tidings or not. It is, however, raising a chorus of answering dogs, so there's that.