Friday, December 25, 2009

The Night Before Christmas (PMS Style)

For those of you who didn't get any presents from Santa this year, it might be due to the little run-in I had with him last night.

This is how things went down...

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Each child steered clear of me, even my spouse.
The stockings were hung, but no chocolates inside,
So I yanked them all down, and threw them aside.

The children were frightened as they ran off to bed,
And my husband was thinking, he’d be better off dead.
Yes, me and my hormones, we were raging like mad,
I was bloated and moody, my PMS was quite bad.

Suddenly, outside, I heard such a noise,
So I rose from my bed, thinking, “Damn neighborhood boys!”
I stomped out of the room, annoyed out of my mind,
Went to the window and flung open the blinds.

With the street lights shining my front yard all aglow,
I started to get pissed when I saw down below.
There on my lawn, to my angry eyes did appear,
A huge-ass sleigh attached to eight F’ing reindeer,

With a big, fat old driver, so large and so thick,
I knew it was Santa, that stupid prick!
Faster than a mood swing, my anger grew,
And I cursed and shouted every bad word that I knew.

"Damn it, Santa! You dumb-ass! You F’ing nitwit!
Get the hell off my lawn! Look at all that reindeer shit!
It’s all over the porch! It’s even on the wall!
Get the hell out of here! Before I kill you all!”

As awkward as chickens when forced to fly,
Like fumbling idiots through the sky,
To the rooftop of my house the reindeer flew,
With that huge-ass sleigh, and Santa’s fat butt too.

Like a circus of elephants, I heard on the roof,
The damaging of roof tiles from each clumsy hoof.
As I thought how my insurance would never pay for that claim,
Down the chimney, that hairy bastard came.

Santa was filthy from his head to his toes,
With ash and reindeer poop all over his clothes.
He had a huge dirty bag, which he dumped on my clean floor,
And that got my hormones raging even worse than before.

When Santa’s eyes met mine, he knew I was not merry,
He could see I was pissed and my nostrils were flaring.
He gave me a smile and said, “Ho, ho, ho!”
And I said, “What did you just call me?” and he said, “Uh-oh.”

He tried to explain that he did not mean it that way,
But I told him to zip it, and not another word did he say.
“Did you bring me the ugly maid I asked for this year?”
When he shook his head no, I said, “Then you stay right here!”

I ran to my closet in a speedy, mad dash,
And returned back to Santa as quick as a flash.
“Here, put this on!” I said with demand.
And like a child in trouble, Santa obeyed my command.

There Santa stood, in my pink apron with white frill,
On the front it said, ”Put your big girl panties on and deal!”
I then put Santa to work, with a broom and a mop,
Then scolded, “Not until the floor shines, do you get to stop!”

Santa swept and mopped until he’d satisfied my wishes,
But when he was done, I pointed to the sink full of dishes.
After he scrubbed and rinsed them, I handed him a towel,
“Now dry and put them away, damn it,” I said with a scowl.

After Santa carefully dried and put the dishes away,
He asked me politely, “May I go back to my sleigh? ”
I looked into his begging eyes, as innocent as a pup,
“Nope, not yet, you’ve got reindeer shit to clean up!”

As I stood at the door watching Santa clean the lawn,
My husband appeared beside me with a big sleepy yawn.
He asked, “Is that the ugly maid you asked Santa for?”
“No, that’s Santa,” I answered, and he said nothing more.

When Santa was done cleaning up all of the crap,
His face beamed with joy when I started to clap.
But his joy soon vanished and he became filled with despair,
When he heard me tell my husband, “Go get the ladder…he’s got a
roof to repair.”

Santa gave my husband a look, then up the ladder he did go,
And my husband quietly whispered, “I know, Santa. I know.”
I glared at my husband, ready to break off his weenie,
When he eagerly said, “Let me go make you a chocolate martini!”

As Santa fixed every tile his reindeer did break,
The noise from it all caused the children to wake.
At the bottom of the stairs all three did appear,
All ready to ask me if Santa was here.

Right at that moment, Santa walked through the door,
“I’m done with the roof. Is there anything more?”
I downed my second martini and gave Santa a wink,
“Actually, yes, there is…you can make me another drink.”

Santa mixed the vodka, Baileys, and Godiva liqueur,
The perfect ingredients for a PMS cure.
Santa handed me my drink and I took a sip,
As I eyed him up and down, with my hand on my hip.
“No too shabby,” I said with a smirk,
“I think this chocolate martini will be the last of your work.”

As Santa moved swiftly towards the door,
The kids asked, “What about the big bag of gifts on the floor?”
“Just keep it, ” he said, “take every gift in the sack.
Because after tonight, I doubt I’ll ever come back.”

Before I knew it, Santa was gone,
So I stumbled out front and watched from the lawn.
Up the ladder he scrammed, back to his sleigh,
And he and his reindeer began flying away.

As I staggered around, waving goodbye,
I hollered out loud, up into the sky.
"Merry Easter, Santa! Have a good life!
And make sure to mention my blog to your wife!”



Daffy said...

Hmmm.....I knew choclate martinis were the cure all! :O)

Fab story!!!!

Happy Hour...Somewhere said...

He'll be back...Mrs. Claus will make sure of that, although he might send the presents through the post office. They need some shaking up, too.

MaryRC said...

you crack me up chica

Katherine (a.k.a. Katie) Corrigan said...

I raise my glass to you, well done! LOL!

adrienzgirl said...

I can just feel the rage!! LOVE IT!

ethelmaepotter! said...

I bet you get your ugly maid next year! What a hoot!

Red Writer said...

I laughed til I tooted!