T'WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Twas the night

‘Good night, sleep tight,’

My mother whispers near

‘Don’t let those nasty bed-bugs bite’

She chuckles in my ear.

.

‘G’night, ya moldy piece of cheese,’

My sister shouts out loud

‘Goodnight Hippolyta,’ I reply,

(her head is in the clouds)

,

‘Goodnight, son’ my father says quite stiffly’

‘See ya, gaga’ my cousin calls

‘Goodnight, Gewett’ says my little sister sweetly,

Her voice strong but small

.

Now I quickly turn out the light,

Press the pillow to my cheek.

Three years ago I never,

Would have slept this easy for a week

.

But NOW…

An unknown force doth keep me up,

Alas! I cannot sleep.

The clock ticks nearer to midnight,

My covers are in a heap

.

As 0:00:00 strikes on my watch,

I jump with terrible fright,

For a grating noise has met my ears,

Shattering the silent night.

.

CRASH! BANG! CLATTER!

I dive beneath the bed.

Several thumps, then silence,

I rub a bruised head..

.

Then I hear more scuffling,

Four slippered feet appear

‘GARRETT, I need you now!

I think Santa Claus is here!’

.

With Myrtle’s help we run,

Into our spacious living room,

Myrtle armed with a camera,

Hippie with a wooden broom

.

‘Oh, these electric heaters,’

A man’s deep voice groans.

In shock we all turn ‘round,

My cousin screams in strident tones.

.

A snowy, filthy boot pokes out,

From our electric u-nit,

A bulging sack is half-thrust through,

How ever did it fit?

.

‘I really wish,’ the man’s voice says,

‘that humans still burned wood,’

Now a second boot comes through

‘these heaters are no good.’

.

With a crashing thump the sack comes free,

A man soon follows after,

He lands in an ungraceful heap,

And we double up with laughter.

.

The man freezes then slowly turns,

To see our guilty faces,

‘Erm…’ he says,

‘Just going through my paces.’

.

His coat is red, his beard is white,

It’s obviously Santa Claus.

‘I don’t suppose you have some cookies?

We nod dumbly in our awe.

.

As Hippie gets some cookies,

I’m commissioned to move the sack.

I lug it to the Christmas tree,

It almost breaks my back.

.

Several beautifully wrapped packages,

Are placed around the tree,

‘I know that one,’ says Myrtle, pointing to the biggest,

‘is definitely for me.”

.

We talk with Santa for five quick minutes

(boy, can he eat cookies,)

Then he stands and prepares to leave,

‘Thanks for helping me with these,’

.

Then with some desperate shoves,

He’s boosted to the heater,

As he disappears and I peek at my present,

Hippie hollers, “Oh no you don’t, you cheater.

.

The next morning as we gather in,

The living room to see our gifts,

Their cheerful bows and vibrant colors,

Give everyone’s spirits a lift.

.

‘But how does Santa get in?’ asks my little sister,

‘We don’t have a chimney, or a fire-place,’

‘He came in through the heater,’ I reply,

Because Ljubljana, is a funny place.

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