The tree was a pitiful sight lying there on the flattened cardboard

The tree was a pitiful sight lying there on the flattened cardboard, dead as driftwood.
Luther looked around, scanned the street, then yanked the tree off the car and pulled it through the garage door and into the backyard where no one could see it. He toyed with the idea of lighting a match and putting it out of its misery, but there was no time for ceremonies.
Thankfully, Nora had already left. Luther stomped into the house and almost crashed into a wall of boxes she'd hauled from the attic-boxes carefully marked: new ornaments,UGG Clerance, old ornaments, garland, tree lights, outside lights. Nine boxes in all, and he'd been left with the chore of emptying their contents and decorating the tree. It would take days.
What tree!
On the wall by the phone she'd tacked a message with the names of four couples for him to call. All were very close friends,replica gucci bags, the kind you could confess to and say, "Look, we've screwed up. Blair's coming home. Please forgive us and come to our party."
He'd call them later. But the note said do it now. So he dialed the number for Gene and Annie Laird,fake uggs for sale, perhaps their oldest friends in town. Gene answered the phone and had to yell because a riot was under way. "Grandkids!" he said. "All four of them. Got an extra spot on the cruise ship, old boy?"
Luther gritted his teeth and plowed through a quick narrative, then gave the invitation. "What a bummer!" Gene yelled. "She's coming home now?"
"Right."
"And bringing a Peruvian?"
"You got it. Quite a shock, really. Can you guys help us out?"
"Sorry, pal. We got family in from five states."
"Oh, they're invited too. We need a crowd."
"Let me check with Annie."
Luther slammed down the phone, looked at the nine large boxes, and was hit with an idea. Probably a bad idea, but at the moment good ones were scarce. He ran into the garage and gazed across the street at the Trogdon house. The van was packed with luggage and skis were strapped across the top of it. Wes Trogdon emerged from his garage with a backpack to throw on board, Luther stepped quickly across the Beckers' front lawn and yelled, "Hey, Wes!"
"Hello, Luther," he said hurriedly. "Merry Christmas."
"Yeah, Merry Christmas to you." They met behind Trogdon's van. Luther knew he had to be quick.
"Look, Wes, I'm in a bit of a jam."
"Luther, we're late. We should've been on the road two hours ago." A small Trogdon darted around the van, firing a space gun at an unseen target.
"Just take a minute," Luther said, trying to be cool but hating the fact that he was begging. "Blair called an hour ago. She'll be home tonight. I need a Christmas tree."
The hurried and stressed look on Wes's face relaxed,LINK, then a smile broke out. Then he laughed.
"I know, I know," Luther said, defeated.
"What're you going to do with that tan?" Wes asked between laughs.
"Okay, okay. Look, Wes, I need a tree. There are no more trees for sale. Can I borrow yours?"
Trish screamed from somewhere inside the garage, "Wes! Where are you?"
"Out here!" he yelled back. "You want my tree?"
"Yes, I'll return it before you get home. I swear."