The cheater

After opening our Christmas presents yesterday, Greg and I went for a walk with Abe. Greg asked if liked my gifts. I told him I did, but I couldn’t understand how he bought all that stuff for $100.

Greg and I agreed to spend no more than $100 on each other. We did this last year, and it was great. It eliminates the stress of trying to top your gift from the previous year, and it’s good for the budget. But the cashmere sweater Greg bought me seemed pretty suspicious.

“I don’t understand how you could have gotten me that sweater,” I said. “I think you busted the budget.”

“That sweater was from Abe and Winston,” he said. “Their names were on the gift tag.”

“Well, in that case, I think Abe and Winston are knocking over stores,” I said. “Where would they get the money to buy that sweater?”

“Abe has been moonlighting as a security guard for our neighbors,” Greg said.

“Then who’s guarding our house?” I asked.

“Winston has picked up some of the slack,” Greg said. (In truth, I’m much more scared of Winston than Abe anyway.)

“And Winston is selling some of his fur to, umm, bald cats,” Greg said.

“You mean like sphynx cats?” I asked.

“Yes!” Greg said, looking relieved that I had helped him out with his lie. I would be upset about Greg’s lying, but it’s hard to be mad about a cashmere sweater.