Do or Die

Inspired by "Hobson's Choice" -- and no, the title doesn't fit the story. But it does fit the prompt!

Emily’s siblings would smile if they got coal for Christmas: in the cold Kansas winter coal was eminently useful, and could warm both soul and sole. Instead, they dreaded Saint Nicolas bringing something much drearier; something that spurted from the ground in great quantities; something that was more of a pest than a present; in a word: corn cobs.

But even corn cobs could be turned into toys, children everywhere reasoned, revealing just how much of a sap dear old Saint Nick was: he couldn’t truly punish any children, naughty or nice, so long as they were optimistic and resourceful.

P.S. Today was a big day: I now have internets, a copy of the Complete, Compact, New Oxford English Dictionary (complete with magnifying paperweight -- no adult's apartment is complete without it, so I can finally say that I have moved in! Hooray!), and have seen Radiohead perform live. Although I had to leave the concert early in order to catch the train home. Tomorrow is a big day: Cake is playing! And fortunately they end at eight, so I have a hope of getting home before midnight-ish. But if all goes according to plan (hah) that should be more like 10:00 and less like 11:00. Boo to long bus-rides with homeless people and their (too-friendly) pet rats through San Francisco. (I quote: "I've never met a rat that doesn't like people. They're so friendly, but so many people don't like them!" To which I snarkily add to the person next to me: "I mean, they're only disease carriers!" I'm not proud, but I did get a laugh, and really? a pet street rat? on a bus?! I like my rattus norvegicus where I can control everything that goes into and out of it: namely, either dead or in a laboratory setting. Or both.)