"What? Those were fucked. We threw them away," Dom insists.

"We do this every year, Dom. I ask you where they are, you say we threw them away, and then around March we find them."

"So where did we put them?" Dom counters.

They go round like this for half an hour before giving up and going to bed. The next morning, Dom comes in from the cold garage with a box clearly labeled "colored x-mas lights" and an apologetic smile on his lips. Billy grins and drapes a string of them around his neck.