WRITERS WRITE... WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ ALMOST CHRISTMAS EVE

We want to wish all a very happy, healthy and extra-special holiday season. Christmas just seems to bring out the thought that magic really is possible.  In the end though, it can get a little nuts.  We are sharing a poem, though humorous, leans toward the realism in its quaint obsurity.  

Merry Christmas to all, and to all... nope not goodnight, we still have to help put the grands toys together, and pies to bake! 
 

 FURRY CHRISTMAS EVE 

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, when the house was amuck
Much paper crinkled-n-tore; how do you wrap a pink, stuffed duck?
Stockings fell off the chimney ledge with a something-broke-thud.
Where was that famous gift-giver?  Sleigh must be stuck in the mud. 

The children and kittens and cats, slept in a heap upon their big beds
While visions of floor to ceiling treats and toys pranced in their heads;
With Dad elbow deep in his tool-box, and I on a battery-frenzied hunt,
Just recalled a robot needed double AA as well as the wreath out front.

Then to make it all worse, the cats awoke and tore through the house

Knocked over the tree, spilled dairy-free milk, and captured a mouse.
They batted and played until the poor critter had breathed its last squeak

After disposal, I nodded thanks the kids stayed asleep, even after my shriek

The moon could not be seen for clouds covered the sky in a promise of snow
The newscast estimated it would give Christmas a ten foot deep icy glow.

Would our guests arrive the next day for the enormous turkey and five pies?

Or would we be saddled with stuffing and turkey and desserts up to our eyes?

Then to my caffeine deprived body and anxious sight should suddenly appear?
Outside n-up the drive, a rusty ole smoke-puffing Buick – no sleigh, no deer
On no, oh dear, for out of the still chugging car, the crusty ole driver stroll

With thick glasses, and a nose bulbous proud, I knew it must be Grandpa Cole

Slower than a turtle shuffling through snow, Gramps tip-tapped with a wood cane
To the bobbin’ heads still inside, he whistled a wobbly note and they came-n-came,
A shocked sight they were, indeed, jumping as if for treats like all was a big game

He coughed, gagged and spat a green wad, then shouted, and called them by name;

"Come out lil pups, now GROWLS, now SNARLS, hurry up DROOLS and FARTS
Don’t shove,  pee or poop, just com’on, me darlings, SNOTS, PIDDLE and TARTS!
To the top of the walk, to top of the porch, to the top of the steps, don’t fall

Yipping and yapping, they found the door.  “Now, scratch away, scratch away all.”

“Hide,” Dad whispered, dropping from sight.  Too late!  Pups were thru the door

Barking, followed by gifts ripping open and tug-a-bow, Dad muttered and swore 

Gramps cited once inside, he left a gift in the trunk, or maybe tied to the roof

We found a blow-up clown, righted the tree, added the present as a pup went woof

In a twinkling, I heard great crunching; pups ate all the treats on the Santa plate

Gramps checking the Christmas display, hobbled about, his gait far from straight

I offered a grand welcome, but wondered aloud about his newly acquired pup zoo

Using a sleeve, he wiped off slobber as some elders do, then said, “My family, too!”

How could I not grin at this gent who once read stories of Claus, toys and Poles North

I offered him fudge and sat on the floor, listened to a tale that he had called forth

A born storyteller, mom used to say, and his arrival a day early was not hard to take

Not as tickled with his pups nipping my toes, especially one that I just could not shake

Eyes crinkled smiles, brows grew wild, while rosy cheeks matched the tip of his nose

Pants too short and double high on his waist, and a shirt-n-vest completed his clothes

The hair on his head had little to spare, but that sparse tuff matched a puffy beard

Dirt crusted boots had scuffed the floor, but didn’t notice cause a dog disappeared

Somehow we managed to do all we could, stumbling over critters and PIDDLE’s poop

Gramps told stories til we fell into a snooze, then the children arose with a big whoop

We were about to panic for we had not finished all, but Santa must have appeared

For all had been done, along with fresh cookies and fudge, so perfect not a thing weird

The puppies had red bows, and I surmised, that they were the true gift not a clown

The cats and kittens remained up the stairs, and Dad managed to not offer a frown

So, no blizzard this day, unless the puppy concoction counted, for they were pure white

Their coats so furry, their noses like ice… Next year, I’ll ask Grampa Cole for a kite

OUR DEDICATIONS IN CHRISTMAS EVI…VIL
   I have been accused of going crazy at Christmas, too many lights, too many decorations, not even the bathroom is safe from tinsel. For me, this is magic-time, when anything and everything is possible.
   Yes, Virginia there is a Santa Claus and he visits me every year.  Having said that, I dedicate this book to all those who enjoy the season with fervor, enthusiasm, over-the-top fanatical delight even if it means eating great-aunt Ruth's fruit cake, and for every grown-up who still wakes up on Christmas morn with a child's pure joy. ~ Angelica

   To the fourteen storage containers in my basement that remind me of the joy of Christmas. I thank all who helped grow that collection. It is the bridge to my past and the hope for my future. Found in duty of persevering the fortitude of the holidays is love. I believe I've become a better man for that. ~ Zi

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Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane
www.champagnebooks.com - www.carnalpassions.com - angelicahartandzi.com