the smuggler’s bible


Axbom wanders down Main Street and marvels at the lights and wreaths. Around him, the crowds shuffle and turn in looping arcs centered on the shrines where they worship the miracle workers—Saint Macy’s, Saint Target, Saint Best Buy—and their high and holy king, Amazon the two-day deliverer.

At the square, he pushes through the throngs of carolers and makes his way to the big tree in the center of town. He falls to his knees, turns his face toward the warm glow and whispers the oldest prayer in the world.

“Please,” Axbom says, “give me what I want.”