Monday, December 24, 2012

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the store
the shoppers were grabbing up bargains galore.

Drill sets and gift cards, they flew off the shelves.
And Longworth and Kitty were dressed up as elves.

Stockwell holed up with a huge Christmas fritter.
Mags drew the short straw and was cleaning the shitter.

Barbie Baxter watched over some umpteen cashiers
who looked forward to margaritas, red wine and beers.

Chewie stood guard in a red Santa suit.
And tripped up a fella with "unpaid for" loot.

Penelope won for the ugliest sweater.
Although everyone said Grandma Ada's was better.

Daisy Cates grumbled as she sold her tools
to contractors, handymen, husbands and fools.

Harry Jensen hauled up a scratch and dent freezer
for a women in Carharts, and her grumpy old geezer.

One scrawny Christmas tree was iced to the ground,
lying in wait for that dork, Charlie Brown.

Everything seemed to be going their way
and even Mick Daniels had nothing to say.

Larry Dale was on hand in case things got hairy,
not a bad Christmas gig for one Leisure Suit Larry.

Kitty snuck glances from beneath her hat
whoever thought leisure suits could be all that.

A fine Christmas glow was spreading about,
and even Bernice couldn't muster a pout.

The registers rang up sale after sale,
and for one day only, nothing could fail.

But, suddenly silence was broken by clatter,
Even Stockwell stopped eating to see what was the matter.

Outside in the parking lot, covered with mud.
something fell from the sky with a big Christmas thud.

Wilton Scott left his post and pressed his face to the door.
As a man staggered in and fell to the floor.

A crowd quickly gathered 'round the filthy old fellow,
whose red suit was tattered, and whose beard was yellow.

"What the hell happened," Slick Mitchell did yell,
as he gazed upon Santa who still looked like hell.

Santa stood up and brushed the mud from his trousers,
and canoodled with Tool Towners, shoppers, and browsers.

"Anyone here know much about sleighs?
Mine's 'bout crapped out and I should be on my way."

"I'm sure I can fix it," Daisy Cates said.
"But don't try to hug me, or you'll wish you were dead."

Santa did point with a finger so bony,
and remembered a Daisy who wanted a pony.

"You there, young lady, get me back on my course,
and this year, I promise, you'll get that horse."

"Look it, old man," Daisy said with a squeal.
"Promise me Jim Beam, and we've got a deal."

Santa just smiled and winked in reply.
And Daisy set out to make the thing fly.

She tinkered and mumbled as Tool Towners stood 'round.
And still the damn thing could not leave the ground.

She swore once out loud and gave it kick,
and wouldn't you know it, that did the trick.

The sleigh hit a Mercedes as it clanged, banged, and sputtered.
"Son of a .....," Slick Mitchell muttered.

The sleigh settled down to a comfortable idle.
And Santa climbed in, for a driver was vital.
Daisy stood proudly and didn't utter a word.
Slick Mitchell mouthed off and flipped Santa the bird.

Santa just shrugged, and set off in the snow.
Leaving the Tool Towners standing below.

And then just before he vanished from sight.
He shouted, "Merry Christmas Tool Towners,
And to all a good night."

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