Bob Vesterman knows how it feels to be disappointed. When he was seven years old -- no, eight! -- all he wanted for Christmas was a new red bicycle. His favorite uncle, Uncle Alfresco, swore to him that he would buy him that bicycle. He counted the days until Christmas. Five o'clock, Christmas morning, he runs downstairs and looks under the tree, and what does he find? Uncle Alfresco, dead, on the floor, shot through the back of the head. Plus, no bicycle. It was a disappointing Christmas on many levels.