Again the hyperbolic St. Holiday has established a standard for the masses, by filing his IRS Tax Extension Form one day early. "No one can accuse me of procrastination," exclaimed the holy man from the front porch of his Show Low sanctuary. Having just completed his latest sacred epistle, aptly named "Stationary of the Cross Wife," the White Mountain's Jedi of the Pen awoke from his fevered dreams at the Dawn of the Dad, and the first words from his mouth were, "I have a duty to perform!" How typical; how diligent; how inspiring! Moving at a break-knickknack pace, while patiently enduring the intense pleasure of his angel mother's hand-dipped chocolates, the one known widely as the Ancient of Weeks went into go motion like a SEAL sniper. Though the sight of the Tax Extension Form was as appealing as a cold catheter, the saintly one threw himself into the labor, worked furiously for all of ten minutes, and succeeded in the deed. Now he is possessed of an irrational, wild optimism that he will somehow be able to pay his tax bill at the end of the six month period of forbearance.
With regard to that other embarrassing incident, Saint Holiday has at all times insisted upon his innocence and continues to do so, except to the Lovely One, who happens to know the truth.