‘Tis the day after Christmas…

Christmas in the post-War United States

‘Tis the day after Christmas and all through the house,

The only creatures stirring are me, and my louse.

The table that was set last night with such care

Is littered with spilled wine, wrapping paper, and pet hair.

My family still lie all snuggled in their beds

With wine flu and cobwebs tangling their heads.

With me in my sweatpants and my louse in his cap

We clean empty envelopes of gift cards from Gap.

I put on carols, to improve our mood

And make an effort not to be rude.

My louse looks at me and by the tilt of my head,

He soon knows he has something to dread.

Torn boxes, dirty diapers and spoiled sippy cups

Interest my two previously cloistered pups.

They prance and press with each little paw

To the tune of ‘Did You See What I Saw?’

When from the kitchen there arose such a clatter

I scream from the den, “What the @$%&*#’s the matter?”

Away to the counter I fly like a flash,

In time to survey the damage from the exploding crash.

My louse had opened the refrigerator, OH NO!

Cranberry sauce and egg nog leaked out on the flo.

When what to my dismayed eyes should appear,

The new gift of growler, in other words, beer.

Not full on the shelf, but spilled in a boozy slick

Just in time came my little dog Vick.

He lapped and slurped until my louse came,

And whistled and shouted and called out curse names!

” #%&* Dasher,  $$#% Dancer!  #$ and $%$@ Prancer and Vixen!”

My Christmas cheer long gone, I had choice words for Blitzen.

By now I my grouse knew I was not doing very well.

I continued to say the reindeer could all go to hell.

I finally tiptoed around the knee-high mess

And now I must say what I darenot confess:

There’s something about this that just isn’t right.

I’m glad it’s over. Done! Now Good Night!

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