Personal mutterings, squallings, babbling, grunts, moans, and occasionally something intelligent.
The weather man on the local news has stopped combing his hair back. It’s bright red and sticks straight up and he is now a dead freaking ringer for Heat Miser. Every time he comes on TV I start singing it…
I’m Mister Green Christmas
I’m Mister Sun
I’m Mister Heat Blister
I’m Mister Hundred and One
They call me Heat Miser,
What ever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch
I’m too much!

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