First we went to the Chinese Christmas tree store. The owner was helpful but they did not have the live Christmas tree we were looking for. "I wouldn't have stopped there if I knew it was a Chinese place," I said to Sonja as my car spit gravel into the parking lot and we continued down the road. "What the fuck does China know about Christmas?"
A man in a turban greeted us at the next place we stopped into. "How are you wanting your Christmas tree?" he asked with a Tommy Chong smile. Sonja and I looked around his lot for a good tree. We did not find one. "I don't know why people call the Punjabs Hindoos," I said to Sonja as we left. "People ought to call them Hindon'ts because they sure don't have very nice Christmas trees."
The next place we stopped at was a white man's Christmas tree shop. The white man had an excellent tree selection. Lots of live ones, lots of dead ones and lots of tree species.
We picked out a Norwegian spruce, paid the man and got the fuck out of there. That tree is going to look real good this Christmas after I have had a few.