Christmas Means You Don't Need to Fly

I'm full sausage dog riding on Santa's back. We dip and saw. I bark at those white-headed wingy things. They don't seem to care. While it's nice Christmas tree as holding us up, I miss my couch and blankie. David is going to be so disappointed in me. Suddenly I was going very fast and it was dark. There was another thing chasing us going pew pew. No, no, no, this can't be flying. That's good, Bean. You're a good boy. You need to go sleep now. It's almost Christmas morning. Oh, and Bean, I want to tell you a secret, but you won