Snorbufar

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all was not well,

I was super tired, and my head hurt like hell;

Still there was presents to wrap, and stockings to stuff,

What ever happened to one gift is enough?;

The loved ones were away or still stuck at work,

Needless to say their employers are jerks;

Wrapping paper and boxes sitting here in my lap,

I’d rather lay down for a long winter’s nap,

When on the floor right above me, I heard such a racket,

The cat fell off the couch, then knocked over my jacket.

My headache it grew like a horrible rash,

I tried to stay calm but could think just ‘Hulk smash’.

The music cranked loud just echoed the noise,

It’s Christmas yet this fool puts on Vengaboys,

When, what to my sensitive eardrums should hear,

But a grumpy old woman, who has had too much beer,

With a little old voice, growly and sick,

I knew in a moment she’d deal with this prick.

Quite quick for her age, like a moth to a flame,

She wobbled, and shouted, and called him some names;

“Hey, Dickhead! you punk! Yeah you, Pansy, ya Moron!

Hey Stupid!, damn asshat! freaking Dummy now listen!

To the top of the stairs! to the end of the hall!

We hear it, we hear it! Don’t like it, Don’t like it at all!”

And then, in a stupor, a kid stumbled on out

He looked like a walrus had made love to a trout.

As he turned his head, and was turning around,

The old woman clocked him, knocked his ass to the ground.

He stumbled to stand, but fell flat on his face,

This guy was drunk, had no saving grace;

Now our angry old woman was still screaming away,

She had to walk up some stairs and for that he should pay.

Her eyes — how they glowed, bright red like a berry!

Her teeth – most were missing, she looked kinda scary!

Her breath it was wretched and smelled like old toes,

And the beard of her chin was just ewwy and gross;

The stump of a cane she held tight in her hand,

One might call a weapon, it was labeled “Beating brand”;

The kid he was scrawny, no older than twenty,

Still sprawled out, wishing he’d called for his mommy.

The old lady stopped yelling, poked the kid with the bat,

Then quickly she said, “Are You listening Brat?”;

With a groan from his throat then a small punt to his head,

The woman decided ‘Christmas sucks to hide deads’;

She spoke no more words, but went straight to her work,

And turned off all the music; and grabbed cash as a perk,

And dragging the kid back into the room,

And then slamming the door as a closed with a boom;

See scuttled down stairs, the back down the hall,

And away to her home like it was nothing at all.

But I heard her exclaim, ere she went out of sight,

“Fucking rap music, these kids just ain’t right”