Musings from the, perhaps slightly touched, mind of the leading social commentator of our time.


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Sunday, December 26, 2010

Harrumph File #048 12.26.2010_ Twas the day after Christmas

Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house
Not a package unopened, ‘cept a CD by Strauss.
The stockings still hung, but nobody cared
Emptied of goodies, not a toy they had spared.

The children had worn off their candy cane high,
And now not a head out of bed we did spy.
As we slept well deserved, ‘round a quarter to four,
A noise I did hear out beyond, past the door.

On the front lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
I opened the window, looked out, and swore,
An object, there seemed, just weren’t there before.

It was dinged up & scratched, a wreck I’ll agree,
With a sticker on back that said “Redneck R.V.”
The seat and the floor covered with cans of cheap beer,
It was a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a haggard old driver, who looked like a hick,
I thought for a moment, “this can’t be St. Nick!”
Like a tree full of sloths his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“C’mon, Dasher & Dancer!  Move it, Prancer & Vixen!
On Comet!  On Cupid! Let’s go, Donner & Blitzen!
C’mon all you guys, I know this ain’t fun,
I know you’re all tired, but we’re just about done!”

Then he looked up and spied me gazing out from the pane,
And he yelled out a message, as if to explain.
“Hey you, in the window, have you got a truck?
There’s lots of snow down here, I think this thing’s stuck!”

I threw down the window; it closed with a click,
I dressed, pulled my boots on, and I did it right quick.
Bounding down the stairs quickly, and out the front door,
And as I approached him he let out a roar.

“I was on my way home, I was running on fumes,
When I heard a loud bump, then a crash, and a boom.
So I set her down here, ‘cause I saw back beyond,
That you’ve got a garage right next to your pond.”

“I’ve been driving this thing ‘round the world it seems now,
For a long thousand years, from New York to Macao.
It’s used up and broken, this thing’s a real dump.
Bring your truck from out back, my sleigh needs a jump.”

Confused and confounded I asked ‘bout the deer.
He looked at them sadly, then he said with a sneer.
“They used to be great, but they’re tired and slow,
So I put in an engine, now they’re just there for show.”

He took out some cables from a giant tool case.
He’d done this before, in many a place.
He clipped them on nimbly; he was ready to go,
“Now start that truck up or I’ll call for a tow!”

When I drove my truck ‘round from the back of the house,
He took out a flask from inside of his blouse.
He hooked up the cable and took a long nip,
Then yelled out and laughed, “Now give it a rip!”

The sleigh started up, my truck’s got a diehard,
He closed up the hood, then gave me his card.
It simply read “Santa, North Pole” how quaint,
Quite simple for someone who’s known as a saint.

Then he thanked me and offered a drink from his flask,
A second time certainly, he hadn’t to ask.
Then he mounted his sleigh and he cracked opened a beer,
“Merry Christmas my friend, I’ll see you next year!”

Harrumph…

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