Mulled Vine

Gaspar ran into the room, panting heavily from exertion, “Melchior, Balthasar, the star that was prophesied has appeared in the west!”

Melchior looked up, “West? Don’t you mean east?”

Balthasar chuckled, “Leave him alone, Melchior – you can be such a literalist at times.”

“Literalist?” Melchior pouted, “It clearly says ‘the wise men will see a star in the east’.”

Balthasar put his cards down and sighed, “But if we are east of the event then does not the phrase still apply?”

Gaspar threw up his hands in frustration, “Will you two cease! Are we going or not?”

“Count me out,” said Melchior, “I fancy a nice relaxing Saturnalia at home this year, not a long, dusty traipse through the desert in the wrong direction.”