Santa and Easter Bunny


Everybody was a baby once, Arthur.   Oh, sure—maybe not today or even yesterday—but once.   Babies, chum:  tiny, dimpled, fleshy mirrors of our us-ness, that parents hurl into the future, like leathery footballs of hope.   And you've got to get a good spiral on that baby or evil will make an interception. — The Tick

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