An act of such measured procrastination implies a certain amount of implausibility, but, fortunately for Gluttony, he has his connections. In a world governed by currency, a little money goes a long way, so without further ado a very important phonecall is made to a very important man to perform a very important task.
The woodwork was hot off the presses, if the wording were at all correct (it wasn't), and the delivery was made with haste, arriving at one Peyton Frances' home addres twelve minutes before midnight. The item in possession, one rectangular box gift wrapped in thick brown paper and bound by thin tan twine, was, upon revelation, a custom-carved bread box, boasting the sort of finite simplicity that would have had Gluttony cowering in a metaphorical corner were he there to witness the unravelling.
The face of the gift was polished cedar of a dark red variety, while the edges were trimmed in the jutting, whimsical design depicted by curls and waves of the lightest birch. The handle which lifted the latch up and down was carved from the same light wood, and aside from the base trivialities, the design was surprising sleek.
Taped to the top of the bread box is a note:
"I'd give you the moon, and all you ask for is this hunk of wood. Merry Christmas, darlin'.
- G "