The old Cousin Kingston used to whip off his black T-shirt and get you in a headlock to hold your face planted in the wiry hair of his armpit as he said, “Breathe up my stink! Smell the stink of an alpha pit bull male!” And you’d drown in the smell of every wet dog in every dog groomer place crossed with every warm iguana in a glass tank that needed cleaning everywhere.
No, really. It’s a Christmas story. Hope yours was merry and bright!
