(the poem below was a shameful attempt at creative humor…but I got tired and sick of it and here’s whattcha get)Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Mom was frantic still looking for that kid’s damn blouse
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
So she’ll have a stocking but her belly will be bare
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
Now it’s that time for mom’s nighty night meds
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and dad in his cap,
“I’m too tired,” she said, “And get off of my lap.”
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Or could that be seams splitting as I clearly get fatter
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
I hope Santa knows I could really use cash
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Only reminded me – mine fall much too low
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But my husband with empty arms and an odd look of fear
I heard bells in the distance (or was I getting sick?)
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
All Those hookers from down the street they came
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
When their parents named them, which drugs were they mixin’?
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
This old man is delirious. God, I hope he doesn’t fall
But they made it indeed. To the rood they did fly
When they meet with an obstacle they mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
Hey! While up there you can fix that damn leak too!
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
Some bitchin’ and moanin’ and stomping the hoof
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
I realized, “It’s late! I should be dreamland bound.”
When the husband arrived at our bed’s foot
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
What have you been doing? Were you in an attack?
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
I told you, I’m tired! And besides, you smell scary
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
As always, he seemed to think, I can never say no
I then belched and the covers I crawled far beneath
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
Just like St. Nick, it’s like a bowl full of jelly. Literally, jelly.
He pouted and scowled like a mad little elf
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
I felt bad and I hugged him and let his dirty ass in bed
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He jumped and recalled he was not finished with work
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
For a moment he stood there as though he had froze
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
Why does he keep doing this? Is this even real?
Maybe I’m sleeping. Should I take Ambien with a meal?
Oh well…Dream or awake…it’ll all be alright, so
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
