Sunday, November 23, 2008

The Month Before Christmas

No apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the month before Christmas,and all through the town
Gifts were purchased with no money down
People were hung from the rafters with rope
The holiday stress they just couldn't cope
The children were on Ritalin for their ADD
Caused by too much sugar and Play Station 3
Ma with her Prozac and me with my Xanax
And a couple of bong hits to help us relax
When from out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
But I was already awake from my overactive bladder
I picked up my cell and to the window I plied
To attempt to record what was happening outside
The moon in the sky like a streetlight did shine
On all of the neighbor's 'home for sale' signs
When, what to my wondering eyes should I see
But a silver tongued demon in a black SUV
Followed by a flurry of angels to damn him
I knew that it was the False God of Mammon
With blinding headlights that went three city blocks
Sticking flyers and catalogs in every mailbox
"Bring VISA! Bring Discover! Bring your Master Card!
To Target! To Penney's! To Sears and Wal-Mart!
To the new shopping center! To the suburban mall!
Now spend away! Spend away! Spend away all!"
As furry lemmings hurl themselves over the bluff
Some people never seem to acquire enough stuff
So in the early morning well before dawn
In houses bedroom lights all were turned on

Then all down the lane the slamming doors
From eager shoppers heading to stores
So I threw on some clothes, and hopped in my coupe
And followed them all to get the real poop
They were all dressed in down, wearing caps and mitts
And behaving as if they had all lost their wits
They all got in line despite all the cold
The rich and the poor, the young and the old
Their eyes--seemed so empty, their souls seemed so lost
Waiting for bargains no matter the cost
And I saw in the lot, waiting just as a vulture
Their false God stood grinning for exploiting their culture
The stump of a crack pipe held tight in his teeth
And big bags of gold surrounded his feet
His eyes were red rimmed, yellowed and beady
As he punished the hopeful and rewarded the greedy
In the line the people were peaceful and loving
'Til the doors flung open and people were shoving
'Twas the start of the holiday shopping stampede
And six old ladies trampled under their feet
He spoke not a word, he just stood there and grinned
Not seeming to mind the cold Northern wind
And laying a finger aside of his nose
He had a good snort of some really good blow
He sprang to his SUV with big sacks of gold
Then shut the doors with the windows unrolled
As he drove away, I heard him speak:

"Everything will be marked down even more next week!


Tom Harper said...

Uh oh, it's the War on Christmas. Bill O'Reilly warned us about godless liberals like you :)

Kathy said...

LOL! I take it you're not getting up at the crack of dawn on Friday and heading to the mall. ;-)

libhom said...


Your grinchdom will get you reported to Homeland Insecurity.

Kathy: Maybe I'll get up at the crack of Noon. Maybe not.