Ok….enough frivolity, on with the “Twas” stuff………………..for 2015…….
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, just that stinkin’ mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
So I wore my wifes nylons, hell, she didn’t care.
The cats were all nestled all snug in their cat beds,
And my companion in her moo moo, and I in my thermal shorts,
When out in the driveway, there arose such a clatter,
Away from the window I flew like a flash,
Rolled up the blinds and tripped over a cat.
The moon on my truck reflected a new fallen snow,
When, what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
With some old guy driving, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment, or after a few minutes, it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than a Dodge Ram Hemi, his coursers they came,
“Now Flasher! now, Pole Dancer! now, Pouncer and, (heh heh) Vixen!
On Vomit! (oops, too much whiskey) On, Stupid! on, Donner (Trump) and Wolf Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
(who talks like that anyhow?)
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full of toys, and that old guy too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my bald head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney he came, hit the floor, and bounced all around.
He was dressed in all denim, from his head to his socks,
A bundle of toys he held closed with one thumb,
His eyes how they squinted, his dimples, how tacky,
His cheeks were like crimson, his nose kinda wacky.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
The stump of a pipe, (smoking weed type) he held tight in his teeth,
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, from what I could see.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know, there’d be coal in my stocking, for forgetting to make the bed.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then called me a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, all of them high, on some really good thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
Unless of course you’re one of those politically correct individuals…..then……..Soooooo, Merry Christmas everyone from MisfitWisdom…….soreeeee, gotta go….time to do my favorite thing on Christmas Eve…….
(my apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)
Now where the hell is that stinkin’ mouse?
Copyright MisfitWisdom RLV – Christmas Eve 2010/2011/ 2012/2013/2014/2015