• T'was the Night before Christmas - oh, can the clichés.
    I was cleaning my knickers, washing duvets.
    Scrubbing the cloth, glad for my heater,
    I turned off the radio, the too-jolly bleater.
    No glamour for me on a cold Yule-tide Eve,
    No more than a shrub; a modest green tree,
    With its bows sparsely covered with cute X-mas bling,
    Like a man at a mall wearing pert near not a thing,
    It's needles a-droop at the shame of its dress -
    It shamed me some too, I may well confess.
    My cubby hole cottage alone on my street
    Wore no Christmas lights, not even a wreath,
    While other homes shone with pride at their spirit,
    At mine all would scoff, and not come a step near it.
    I fended friends off, I kept them away,
    So none would see my sorry Christmas display.
    The problem you see, is I did not believe,
    That good things could happen on any Christmas Eve.
    Children are fooled for another year in the row,
    Doomed to despair in few more or so
    When they realize belief, doesn't always mean real,
    That Santa is made-up, his Northpole surreal.
    I get no gifts when I wake in the morning,
    So why waste my time on my warm home adorning
    Bobblets and jinglets; the Grinch I may be,
    But I thought it made sense to be only me,
    With my dowdy old ways, skepticism too,
    I tried not too share it and make others feel blue.
    So later that night -the clock read just 9 -
    I put up the covers, all clean now, to dry,
    And parked myself down in front of TV,
    To watch some Law and Order, or House, just maybe.
    In the crook of my arm I held a plate of warm treats,
    Made just for me, I would at least ENJOY Christmas Eve.
    The criminal caught, diagnosis made, I'd finished half of the dastardly plate;
    Heaving a sigh, I put it away - I'd been trying to keep an eye on my weight.
    The next show began - no wait, what is this?
    Dear Lord, another special, JUST for Christmas!!
    I raised the remote, to flip the channel once again,
    When I heard a strange sound, like the laugh of gremlins.
    It came from the roof, and I set my jaw strong -
    Burglars or drunks must have come along.
    I grabbed up my bat, and held it up high,
    Strutting outside to beat off the poor guy.
    Out in the snow, in my cozy old robe,
    I stared up at the roof, frozen not from the cold,
    But the collection of reindeer perched up on top,
    I feared they would tumble - you know, slip and drop,
    But they did no such thing, just stood in the cold,
    Guarding a sleigh aged with its old.
    It occurred to me then, if this was 'good St. Nick,'
    I had a few things to say to him, with a pan and a stick.
    I sprinted inside, to point and to giggle,
    As out of my fireplace a butt tried to wiggle.
    Still holding my bat, I prodded it once,
    And a growl issued forth, but dang it was fun!
    And that's when I noticed this was the butt of no human,
    But a big bulky bag, and its holder was fuming.
    Out popped a bag, shoved down from above, and a call issued forth,
    "It needs just some care and some love!"
    And with that he was gone, I was left with the bag,
    And the sense that Santa was a sneaky old nag,
    Dropping a gift that I was not sure I wanted,
    The big man indeed had practically taunted
    Me in his way, and by dropping that bag here to linger,
    Gangster Saint Nick was giving me the finger.
    I knelt down real close to the bag, still in shock,
    And reached for the top, to see it was locked.
    A frightening gesture, and useless at that,
    I wished it HAD been his butt I had hit with that bat.
    I slipped off the lock, and opened it up,
    To find myself staring at a cute little pup,
    With one eye of green and one eye of red,
    And a sweet little bow tied ‘neath its head.
    It yipped at me twice, and dropped a box in my hand –
    Puppies like this must be in such high demand.
    I opened the box and glared at the paper inside –
    An IOU. “Stupid Santa…” I sighed.