Disclaimer: this is a sick joke, folks. Don't take it too seriously. Laughter is healthy.
Jimmy and Bobby, two young, fun-loving and bright-eyed lads come running down the stairs Christmas Morning.

The stairs lead them down to the kitchen, where their mother is cooking up an enormous Christmas breakfast- waffles, eggs, bacon, english muffins with chocolate chips, the whole works. She sees them coming and says

"Whoa! Slow down, boys. Breakfast isn't ready yet. Go start opening your presents and I'll bring all of this in when it's all done."

No argument there. The boys sprint for the living room, where their presents, longed for since Thanksgiving, are waiting. As they rush down the hall, they glance out the window. Through the frost-sheathed glass they can see a perfect blanket of White Christmas snow, gently falling to the ground. Imagining the fun they'll have in the snow after they are breakfasted and the presents are all open, they gleefully run to the living room. When they arrive, they are warmly greeted by their father, a good man with a broad smile, who is busily stoking up a cheerily roaring fire.

"Go ahead, boys. Open 'em up!" says dad. Then they see it, the Christmas Tree, laden with gifts that spread across the floor in a wide cone from the bottom branches of the tree.

The paper starts flying.

When the dust has settled, Jimmy begins sorting through his enormous mound of presents- there are G.I. Joes, Nerf guns, an X-Box, a new sled, new clothes, cool new shoes, and approximately a metric ton of candy.

Then, pensively, he looks over at Bobby, who has recieved ONE MATCHBOX CAR.

It's a replica of a 1970-something Pinto.

A brown one.

Bobby is pushing it slowly back and forth across the floor in the corner.

"Gosh, Bobby," says Jimmy, "I got a lot more presents than you did this year."

"Yeah, well," replies Bobby,

"at least I don't have cancer."

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