a real beauty

"Yes, a real beauty."
"Are you decorating it?"
"Yes, I have Perry Como crooning 'Jingle Bells' in the background while I'm sipping eggnog and trimming our tree. Wish you were here?"
"Have you called anyone?"
"Yes, the Lairds and Albrittons, neither can make it."
"I've called the Pinkertons, Harts, Malones, and Burklands. They're all busy. Pete Hart laughed at me, the bore."
"I'll beat him up for you." Spike was knocking on the door. "I gotta get busy."
"I guess you'd better start calling the neighbors," she said, her hyper voice faltering.
"Why?"
"To invite them,replica gucci wallets."
"Not in a million years, Nora. I'm hanging up now."
"No word from Blair."
"She's on an airplane, Nora,nike shox torch 2. Call me later."
Spike's borrowed wagon was a red Radio Flyer that had seen its better years. With one look, Luther deemed it too small and too old, but they had no choice. "I'll go over first," he explained, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. "Wait five minutes, then bring the wagon over. Don't let anyone see you, okay?"
"Where's my forty bucks?"
Luther handed him a twenty. "Half now, half when the job is done."
He entered the Trogdon home through the side door of the garage, and felt like a burglar for the first time in memory. When he opened the door to the house, an alarm beeped for a few seconds, very long seconds in which Luther's heart froze and his entire life and career flashed before him. Caught, arrested, convicted, his license revoked, banished by Wiley & Beck, disgraced. Then it stopped, and he waited another few seconds before he could breathe. A panel by the rear door said things were Clear.
What a mess. The house was a landfill with debris strewn everywhere, clear evidence of another successful visit by Ole St. Nick. Trish Trogdon would choke her husband if she knew he'd given Luther the keys. In the living room, he stopped and stared at the tree.
It was well known on Hemlock that the Trogdons took little care in decorating their tree. They allowed their children to hang anything they could find. There were a million lights, strands of mismatched garlands, tacky ornaments by the boxload, red and green icicles, even strings of popcorn.
Nora will kill me, Luther thought, but he had no choice. The plan was so simple it had to work. He and Spike would remove the breakable ornaments, and the garlands, and for sure the popcorn, lay them all on the sofa and chairs, ease the tree out of the house with lights intact, haul it over to Luther's, and dress it with real decorations. Then,replica gucci bags, at some point in the near future, Luther and perhaps Spike would strip it again, haul it across the street, put the Trogdon junk back on it, and everybody would be happy.
He dropped the first ornament and it shattered into a dozen pieces. Spike showed up. "Don't break anything," Luther said, as he cleaned up the ornament.
"Are we getting in trouble for this?" Spike asked. "Of course not. Now get to work. And fast,Discount UGG Boots."
Twenty minutes later the tree was stripped of anything breakable. Luther found a dirty towel in the laundry, and lying flat on his stomach, under the tree, he managed to work the metal tree stand onto the towel. Spike leaned in above him, gently shoving the tree to one side, then the other. On hands and knees, Luther managed to slide the tree toward Spike, across the wood floor, across the tile of the kitchen, down the narrow hall to the laundry, where the branches scraped the walls and dead spruce needles trailed behind