Living Retired #175- December 19, 2016
‘TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS.
‘Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring
….Except Dad– who Mom and the kids call ‘the louse.’
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there
… with the fuchsia red Victoria Secret pyjamas Dad ordered for his wife!
The children were nestled all snug in theirs beds,
… after puking hot chocolate all over their new Christmas pyjamas!
And Mamma in her microfibre thermal tracksuit and electric socks to stay warm,
And I in my gotchies and see-through nasal strip,
Had just settled in for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
That I sprang from the bed to see what the hell was the matter!!
“#%€¥!!!” I tripped over the decorator pillows scattered on the bedroom floor!
Away to the window I crawled holding my shins.
Seething in pain, I tore open the California shutters and threw up the sash
… then threw up the carrots and cookies the kids left Santa on the fireplace mantle.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below:
… burned out broken miniature bulbs and a rotting carved Halloween pumpkin.
When, what to my wondering eyes through reader glasses should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer
…. and advertising flyers from the community newspaper frozen in the snow!
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be
… Regis Philbin!
Faster than chowing down at a Denny’s ‘Grand Slam Breakfast Buffet’
He slurred and whistled and shouted them by name:
‘Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen,
On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Wolf Blitzer,
To the top of the porch. To the top of the wall,
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all.
As dry leaves flew from the eaves into the hockey net laying on the driveway,
Up to the house-top the coursers flew
… with a sled full of empties clanging about.
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of
… the family of raccoons scurrying from the attic!
As I sucked in my protruding stomach hanging over my relax fit jeans,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in spandex, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes smelled of Fleecy ‘Touch Release 14 Days of Freshness’ fabric softener.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like Snoop Dog about to go on a rant.
His eyes- how they twinkled. His dimples how Merry.
His cheeks were like Jose Bautista’s filled with tobacco.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
With the beard on his chin he looked like Justin Trudeau (hey it rhymes!).
The stump of a pipe he held in his teeth,
And the smoke– Whew! It reminded me of Gary Indiana!
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when e laughed, like Governor Christie.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him– why its Newt Gingrich!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know he could be trusted like Congress.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled the stockings with… decorator pillows!
And laying a finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team he gave a whistle,
And away they all flew… to the bathroom liked they’d prepped for a colonoscopy!
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
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Gary Chalk, a baby boomer is enjoying retirement. He is a member of Humor Writers of America and muses about what he sees Living Retired. To receive Living Retired each week, to ‘unsubscribe’ or to book Gary’s keynote presentation ‘I Don’t Have Wrinkles, I Have Laugh Lines’ visit https://livingretired.press
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