‘If I should die,’ said I to myself, ‘I have left no immortal work behind me - nothing to make my friends proud of my memory - but I have lov’d the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remember’d.’ - John Keats
“Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.” - Kurt Vonnegut
28. screenwriter. watcher of movies. taco lover extraordinaire. drinker of coffee. listener of music. I am obsessed with classic films, contribute to YAM Magazine, run this site: http://cinema-fanatic.com and do social media for Warner Bros. and Rotten Tomatoes. Opinions are all my own.
Kate: Now I have another reason to hate Christmas. Billy Peltzer: What are you talking about? Kate: The worst thing that ever happened to me was on Christmas. Oh, God. It was so horrible. It was Christmas Eve. I was 9 years old. Me and Mom were decorating the tree, waiting for Dad to come home from work. A couple hours went by. Dad wasn’t home. So Mom called the office. No answer. Christmas Day came and went, and still nothing. So the police began a search. Four or five days went by. Neither one of us could eat or sleep. Everything was falling apart. It was snowing outside. The house was freezing, so I went to try to light up the fire. That’s when I noticed the smell. The firemen came and broke through the chimney top. And me and Mom were expecting them to pull out a dead cat or a bird. And instead they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He’d been climbing down the chimney… his arms loaded with presents. He was gonna surprise us. He slipped and broke his neck. He died instantly. And that’s how I found out there was no Santa Claus.