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December 27, 2011

A fictionalized, yet decently accurate account of my day after Christmas in the style of "Twas the Night before Christmas." Basically that means I kept all the rhyming words and changed the rest. Most of the rest.


Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house,

all the creatures were stirring, including a mouse.

People stomped all around, of course, giving no care

to the fact that Lauren was still sleeping there.


Everyone else was out of their beds,

and Lauren was wishing to chop off their heads.

She wished that she had some sort of thick cap

That would aid her in taking a long winter's nap.


The washing machine made it's usual clatter

And her sister was yelling on some small matter

Then lights in the basement turned on like a flash,

And a figure appeared in a robe and a sash.


"Time to get up and shovel the snow,"

But she had made plans to stay there below.

She told the robed figure to go disappear

And went back to dreaming of Santa's reindeer


She was so tired she fell asleep quick,

Soon she was back to her dream of St. Nick.

But too quickly back, the robed figure came,

Turning on lights and calling her name


"Get out of that bed, you lazy vixen"

Just let me go back to Donner and Blitzen!"

She flipped over in bed, turned, facing the wall,

She was not leaving this bed, not today, not at all.


Back up the stairs the figure did fly,

Hurling cries of despair up into the sky

The figure made lots of noise as she flew,

Which happened to get on Lauren's nerves too.


Her brother and father were up on the roof,

Each foot and knee pounding down like a hoof.

As they took down lights they wandered around,

Jumping from front to the back with a bound.


Then to the chimney, also pounding each foot,

Lauren hoped, in revenge, they'd get covered in soot.

She tossed and she turned, lying there on her back,

If she was a smoker, she'd smoke a whole pack.


"They all should be tired, why are they so merry?”

Her eyes were all puffy, the color of cherry.

She wrapped herself up like a present, sans bow,

And tried not to think of the sleep-taking snow.


The figure came back, this time gritting her teeth,

Lauren feared that her fate was to hang like a wreath.

She pretended to sleep, lying flat on her belly,

Her once steely resolve had now turned to jelly.


"Don't think you can sleep through today like an elf!"

"I'd like to be back in bed, myself!"

The voice was now sounding right over her head,

And the rest of her body was filling with dread.           


She hated hard labor, well, all sorts of work,

However this hatred oft made her the jerk.

So feeling the breath from the robed figure's nose,

Lauren turned over and then slowly rose.


The robed figure sighed, and made a low whistle,

Then gave her a look as warm as a thistle.

And just as the figure had gone out of sight,

Lauren went back to bed and whispered, "Good-night."