A Christmas Resolution Three minutes to midnight.

I'd spent the year trying to stay off the big man's list. Or at least keep on the right side. Sure, I robbed that old lady—I needed the cash, but I did put 12 percent of my take in the church offering box. Heck, even the Good Book doesn't say how much to give, just that you should.

Two minutes to midnight. It's not easy keeping off his radar. That guy in the bar—just a misunderstanding, but then he had to go and dis me in front of all those people. I sent him a card while he was in ICU. Oh, and flowers to his kids. That's gotta count for something, right?

One minute to midnight. The ex—she really makes it tough: Trying to keep my kids from me. I’m not paying for the privilege to see my kids…I don’t care what the court says. I got her junkie-ass a little somethin’ for the season. Maybe I'll let her see the kids when she gets out.

Midnight. He kicked in the door and, in a blink, I saw it all: white beard, red suit, freakishly large belt buckle; Glock 19 in his hand. I fired the shotgun. Twice. I'll try harder next year.

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