Twas the Night Before Christmas: Motherly Law Style

Twas the night before Christmas,

When all thro' the house,

Not a creature was stirring,

Except for the Mom;

The stockings were hung

By the chimney with care,

Full to the brim with Angry Bird pencil toppers, Pez dispensers, chocolate, Squinkies and socks;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of superheroes and pirates danced in their heads,

And Dad in his fleece had just started to snore—

When out on the lawn

There arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my work to see what was the matter.

Away to window I flew like a flash,

Peeked out of the blinds

And checked the triple locked door.

The moon shining down on the brown grass below

Gave no reflection at all;

When, what to my squinting eyes, peering into the darkness, should come into sight

But 8 plastic yard reindeer attached to a broken down sleigh,

With a little, middle-aged driver, so wobbly and slow,

I knew in a moment he must be drunk.

More rapid than eagles these reindeer were not.

And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name:

"Now! Jack {Daniels}, now! Jim {Beam}, now! Jose {Quervo}, and Crown,

On! Bailey{'s}, on! Bud {weiser}, on! Malibu and Captain {Morgan}"

"To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves before a wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle...really, what does this line have to do with Christmas?

Regardless, up to the house-top those coursers did not try;

With a tired old sleigh and a tipsy St. Nick, those plastic reindeer didn't move an inch.

And then in a twinkling I heard on the window pane

The tapping and rapping and prying and tugging and struggling of that drunk Santa.

As I stood against a wall in the shadows, and reached for my Smartphone from the pocket of my flannel pajamas,

That fake Santa opened the window and climbed in with much difficulty:

He was dress'd all in synthetics,

from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnish'd

With chili cheese fries and root beer {say it like a Minnesotan and root rhymes with foot, kind of};

An empty bag he had flung over his back,

And he reminded me of...well, the Grinch

Just opening his {empty} sack:

His eyes – oh, how bleary!

His dimples very un-merry and really more like scowls,

Now, his cheeks were like roses

And his nose like a cherry {because of the liquor};

His droll little mouth was

Drawn down in a frown.

And the beard of his chin

Was as red as the nose on a clown;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth

And the smoke was thick and stinky,

Messing up my freshly cleaned house.

He had a broad face, and a

Big round belly

That bumped into my treasures and trinkets as he tread across my floor;

He was chubby and plump,

A right sad old elf,

And I dialed 911 when I saw him

In spite of my staring

A droop of his hand and nod of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but

Went straight to sleep.

As he sank into my couch in his filthy old suit,

He turned on his side and began to saw logs.

Giving a nod {to the police} as they arrived at my home,

Out he was dragged before

He could awaken and make haste out the door to escape.

Once revived by fresh air, he sprung into action,

To his team {of plastic reindeer} gave a whistle,

But alas, to no avail, those old yard decorations gave no heed,

And away the cops took him, as fast as they'd descended upon

My humble abode,

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-

Merry Christmas to you, and I'm not the real Claus, just an imposter.

Well, I'll have you know that fake Santa was booked, jailed and bailed,

Then charged, put on trial and convicted

Of the theft of 8 plastic yard reindeer and one antique miniature sleigh,

Disorderly conduct {based on his action at the bar prior to the theft of holiday decor},

And breaking and entering of a residence,

For which he received quite generous sentence in exchange for the promise

That that red-bearded elf would never play Santa again.

And, the red and white Santa Claus suit?

He swears it came in the mail,

Addressed to K. Kringle at his address penned beneath.

He donned it for a lark, but liked its affect

And wore it out for the night of pre-Christmas delight.

Alas, his folly got bold and he landed in prison, abject.

Over and out....Happy Christmas Eve!

Anna

Comments

[Sally]

Very clever,Anna!