How you Howl, Mr. Howl

It's 4:30 in the a.m. and through a closed window and thick orange makeshift blanket-curtain I can hear a guy outside down a few blocks howling in agony as if he was holiday disemboweled by the shadowy street gremlin TJ saw last year creeping around the neighborhood. I figure "Mr. Howl" probably isn't from around here since he would have known Beaumont the Gremlin is actually quite a nice chap as long you don't get in his glide path. What path, you say? Stay on the inside of the sidewalk and let him take the out and you'll be fine. Oh and don't make any comments about his cheeks. Beaumont used to pimp the Van Ness areas in San Francisco until a rival gremlin flesh-peddler took offense to his penchant for chipmunking Ghirardelli chocolates in his mouth. Flim and flam and bam! Beaumont gets 2 misshapen G's branded on his face. Seriously, not a word. Or you too will end up howling in the Yuletide. With the frenzied way I heard that guy outside shrieking, it's fine advice to tell you'd feel best keeping Christmas yum deliciousness inside your belly and not acid scattered out on the sidewalk beside lawn light-up deer and glowing Baby Jesus Nativity scenes.