Twas the Drugged Night Before Xmas

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(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!”

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About Heather Rayne

I am a mom, wife, writer, volunteer, eater of food, lover of animals and avid TV enthusiast. I am opinionated, honest, compassionate and sensitive. I can also be difficult, hard headed and emotional. I consider myself to have a great sense of humor and am very attracted to that in others. I am striving to live an authentic life. I am attempting to learn how to find happiness in the now. I always have hope to be a better person. That being said - I can be vulgar, negative and even a little bitchy at times. I say what I mean and my filter is often dysfunctional. With me, what you see is what you get. I have strong opinions and am quick to speak my mind. This can cause problems from time to time but I do not ever intend to hurt or offend anyone. With that - be warned. I do hope you enjoy my site. Thanks for visiting and have a swell day.

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