Dec
‘Twas the Night AFTER Christmas…
My profound apologies to Clement Clarke Moore for this, but I worked in retail for just a bit too long:
‘Twas the night after Christmas and all through the abode
Not a creature was stirring, cuz everyone was in nap mode
The clothes were hung in the closet with care,
In hopes that smaller waistlines soon would be there;
The adults were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of leftovers danced in their heads;
And one child on the sofa, the other in the fridge
Had just settled down for a game night so big,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and what the hay is a sash?
The moon on the breast of the new-frozen ground
Gave the luster of nothingness since it was all brown,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature cart, and eight tiny sales clerks,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Manager Rick.
More rapid than eagles his sales clerks they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Ringer! Now, Zinger! Now, Binger and Fixin’!
On, Shopper! Consumer! on, Buyer and Ditz-in!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now charge away! Charge away! Charge away all!”
So up to the house-top the sales clerks they flew,
With the cart full of bills, and Manager Rick, too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard from that male
The chiming and blinging of each little sale.
As I thought in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Manager Rick came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all shiny where dollar signs were put;
A bundle of bills he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a Bill Gates just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old man,
And I winced when I saw him, in spite of too many pecans;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had a lot to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And tallied all the billings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying the bills down by the end of my toes,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his cart, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Bill-paying to all, and to all a sleepless-night.”
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