Melchior: This is exciting, huh? The birth of the Lord God incarnate?
Melchior: Yeah, this is going to be great. Hey, what do you guys think he'll look like?
Gaspar: A baby, probably.
Melchior: OK, what's the problem here, guys? We're on the way to meet the Living God and you guys are being weird!
Balthasar: Nothing. Let's just keep riding. Lots of desert between here and Bethlehem.
Melchior: It's about the gold, right? You guys are pissed I brought gold. Come on, let's do this.
Balthasar: It's not about the gold. It's about what the gold represents.
Melchior: You guys, Frankincense and Myrrh are awesome gifts, too. It's not like we're having a contest here.
Gaspar: Really? Really?! OK then, so if this isn't a contest to you, why don't you give the infant Christ King some of that cinnamon you have in your camel's saddle bag instead?
Melchior: That cinnamon is for one of my wives. Besides, I already brought the gold. I might as well give it to him.
Gaspar: You don't think Balthasar and I wanted to give the Lamb of God some gold or some jewels? I'd give the infant Lord all of my worldly goods but we agreed on a 20 denari limit!
Melchoir: You can't even get anything good for 20 denari!
Balthasar: So you admit that frankincense and myrrh aren't good gifts, then?
Melchoir: That's not what I meant look, babies are expensive, guys! You blink that first year and they've already outgrown all of their infant tunics. I had to go to the cobbler five times for new sandals the first year after Titianius was born.
Gaspar: You don't think we know how expensive kids are? Between Balthasar and I, we have 7 legitimate kids and 19 bastards. We know!
Melchior: I guess I just wanted to get them something they need, not something they want.
Balthasar: Right, so in doing that, you're making Gaspar and I look like shitty friends. Like we just grabbed something for the Divine Child at the spice market on the way here.
Melchior: You did do that! We stopped at the market in Ashshur so you guys could get spices!
Gaspar: That's not the point! We agreed on a limit and when someone exceeds that limit, it makes everyone else in the group look like an asshole, Melchior!
Melchior: Well if it means so much to you, why don't you just give the Holy Child gold, too? I mean, it's not as if they're really rolling in it. They're sleeping in a manger
Balthasar: Because that wasn't the plan, Melchior! We clearly agreed that we'd all get spices in the group scroll Gaspar sent out in September. My scribe made a copy of it, so don't even try to say you didn't agree to that.
Melchior: Well I did get some spice for him too.
Balthasar: Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me!
Melchior: It's just some pepper that
Balthasar: You are such a fucking asshole.
Melchior: Well excuse me for being generous! This is the Christ Child we're talking about here! I think I should be allowed to honor the Infant King of the Jews with more than one gift! Stop trying to make me feel bad for going above and beyond.
Gaspar: You know why we're so mad? Because you're not doing it for the Living God, you're doing it for yourself!
Melchior: I had a good year, OK? The wine trade really picked up and now I'm the bad guy because I'm using my money to give the Prince of Peace a nice birthday gift? Explain that logic to me?!
Gaspar: OK, here's a solution. If it's really not about you, Melchior, why don't we just put all of our gifts together and say the gold, the frankincense, the myrrh and the pepper are from all of us? How about that?
Melchior: Well I I just think that if we do that it will look like one of us didn't get the Christ Child anything and we're trying to cover for him. That'd be a shame, if Mary and Joseph thought one of us flaked.
Balthasar: You're a dick, Melchior.
Gaspar: Seriously. Because of you we're going to have the shittiest gifts there.
Little Drummer Boy: Good sirs! Do not fight. This night should be a happy one, for one this night our savior, the messiah is born. I am just a humble peasant boy with no possessions but this drum, but I will bring him the GIFT OF SONG!
Gaspar: Okay, THAT is the shittiest gift.
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