'Twas the night before Christmas
and not a moment too soon,
not a creature was stirring
nor were the pots or the spoons.
The children were wrapped
like mummies inside their blankets,
while the cats dreamt the same dream
of rodentia banquets.
Me, tossing and turning
'cuz I noshed before bed,
my gut was a-churning
as worries [scenarios] danced in my head.
But suddenly I stopped staring
a hole through the ceiling,
in response to a premonition -
a very strange feeling.
Peering out the window
I beheld the sight
of the jolly little elf
and his team in flight.
They swooped down near the eves
and dove down toward the chimney
falling like a gale's mad breeze
tin a manner most definitely un-Disney.
[The hearth barked out a loud sneeze
tin a manner most definitely un-Disney.]
I dashed down the hallway
and peaked 'round the corner
to witness a yuletide parade
that's changed my world view forever
Not reindeer, but roaches
pulled the elf's sleigh.
They landed on the ceiling
Santa screamed "OBEY!" |
They giggled and hummed
and resumed their chitenous flutter,
their landing left a back draft
that sent me a shudder.
He looked round and jumped out
and went to the tree.
He called to the house,
"What? You think this service is free?"
Turning to me with an accusatory eye,
he boomed, "Geez, why izit I try?
You're supposed to leave some presents
For me to dump on the next guy!"
"Oh, no!" I exclaimed,
"I'll run and go them!"
So there I was digging
through a closet of linen.
"Ah, that's right," I muttered,
growling to myself,
"That's where I left them -
resting on a basement shelf!"
So down the stairs I ran,
cursing as I went,
I banged my head on a pipe,
which left quite a big dent.
I grabbed all the packages,
every last one,
and flew up the stairs
afraid he'd be gone.
I burst into the room
where we'd been before,
only to hear chittering in the kitchen
and a most contented snore.
|
He slept amongst cookie crumbs
with his sled team still feasting.
I could feel my head start to pound -
from my blood pressure increasing!
"Wake up!" I yelled
"You've got a schedule to keep!
This'll do nothing to dispel
the rumor you are a creep!"
He mumbled, "There's no need to worry,
There're my department store clones
I've no need to hurry,"
and he stood with a groan.
"Beneath the tree," he added
"your presents are there,
and you can give those [gifts] to me
and be sure to take care!"
As he loosed a wild shout
his team revved their brown wings
He cried "May your house fill with roaches
that show up in the Spring!"
Jumping into his sleigh, he started his call:
"On Flatus! On Flitter, On Goober! On Nixon!
On Blatus! On Brutus! On Wiggler! On Clintons!
[On Dioxin! | On Slim Pickens! | On Gingrichens!]
Buzz away buzz away buzz away all!"
As they flew up through the chimney
Saint Nick and his roaches,
I gasped, "Good Jiminey!
They are just too atrocious!"
Now, there's a moral in this story;
Should ever you see a flying sleigh:
Make sure you are prepared
with a can of bug spray! |
