Once upon a time, The Scribe Family lived near a house that liked to Gussy Up for the holidays. One of their prominent outside displays included a string of lites suspended from a faux-balcony thingy affixed above the front door.
Trouble was, the Lighting Designer for this particular display-probably a Hapless Dad who tried to imbue the place with a little Christmas Spirit, stringing Decorations in the Dark after a Difficult Day-never could get the Balcony Janx quite right. The string of lites always sagged in the middle.
A very pronounced cleft. Like cleavage. We called this particular neighborhood display The Christmas Breasts.
Happy 3 Kings Day, y'all! Better Late Than Never, huh?
Editor's Note: After all those years, The Scribes never did take a picture of The Christmas Breasts. The family moved away. The Breasts are but a memory now. This snap, snagged from Google, just put us in mind of the story.