Originally Guest-Published at Quixtar Blog. Inserted back into “OTRWD” in November of 2015.
In the spirit of the Holiday Season; I present to you my attempt(feeble, as it may be) at poetry.
“TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE QUIXMAS”
with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore
‘Twas the night before Quixmas, when all through my home
Not a creature was stirring, not even the gnome.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of beaches danced in their heads.
And mamma in her kerchief, (what is that, really?)
I don’t wear a cap; cause it makes me look silly
When out on the lawn there arose such a ruckus
I sprang from my bed; tripped; and fell on my tukkus.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon shone on the lawn, no snow was to be seen,
I live on the Gulf Coast; the grass is still green.
Then my weary eyes happen to see way up in the sky,
A flying H2, pulled by suited men; each with a red tie.
Now Billy! Now Jimmy! Randy and Don!
On Orrin! On Kanti! On Danny, and Ron!
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
You gotta dream big, if you wanna have it all!
As rumors and writings on blogs will fly,
when the topic of Quixtar is given a try;
So up to the rooftop the minions they flew,
with that truck full of stuff and ole Dexter too.
And then in an instant, I heard through the ceiling,
the theme from “Rocky”; that tune still leaves me reeling.
As I closed the window, and then turned around,
Down the chimney came Dex with more than a bound.
He was dressed all in blue, a three-piece suit,
with a cross on a chain and a red tie to boot.
A bundle of products he had flung on his back,
and he looked just like a Platinum opening his pack.
His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry,
He was high on XS; I think it was Cherry.
He had a beard, now white as snow,
but I couldn’t wear one, I was just an IBO.
Dex would never have a pipe, so no smoke did he blow.
A wreath around his head? He’d prefer a halo.
He had a broad face and a round little belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was still real chubby, in spite of his health,
You’d think he’d own a gym with all of his wealth.
And as I was thinking he should go for a jog;
It hit me that I should write about this on my blog.
He mumbled to himself, and he looked my way,
“No Tools for You; you never signed the BSMAA!”
He said, “See you at the top” and then rubbed his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to the Hummer, to his minions gave a whistle,
and away they all flew with the speed of a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as he flew away from me,
“Happy Quixmas to all, and to all, “Up Your PV!”