I put christmas lights on the tree, wrapped them round in a spiral, but realised that there were still lights remaining. I trailed them across the sitting room floor and lined the window with them. But there were still lights remaining. I brought the lights out of the sitting room and into the hall. I draped them around mirrors and picture frames, made Xs with them on the ceiling and cris-crossed them along the wall, but there were still lights remaining. I turned the entire interior of the house into an intricate web of dangling coloured lights, and still, even after that, there were lights remaining. I heard the dog barking at the door - it needed food. I walked around the house, sticking the lights to the wall as I went, and wrapped the lights around my dog. Each arm and claw was wound with the skinny bulbs until it was little but a tangled ball, with two constantly sniffing holes out front. But there were still lights remaining. I laid a path of lights along the driveway, made an outline of every leaf in the hedge, and fired the rest up into the sky to double the stars; and finally, after all that, the plug landed beside me - there were no more lights remaining. I knocked on the neighbours door and demanded an extension lead. I brought it to the plug and plugged it in. There was a rush of colourful light; christmas came into existence; and the dog screamed.