by Gianna Perez and Yamila Ruiz
"Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to by Jim a present."
"If Jim doesn't kill me," said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do! What could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven-cents?"
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.
"Jim had not yet seen his beutiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm."
"Don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present."
"I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or shampoo that could make me like my girl any less."
"And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisly sacrificed for eachother the greates treasures of their house." THEY ARE THE MAGI.
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