It’s that time of year again. People are putting Christmas lights around palm trees, the weather has chilled to a cool and crisp 81 degrees, and shoppers flood the malls with a frenzy equaled only by a school of starving piranhas when an unsuspecting Mongoose steps into their midst.
Everyone knows the obvious family traditions that happen on Christmas Eve – the hot chocolate, the snuggle by the fireplace while The Grinch plays on…and on…and on…in the background. We know about the big dinners, the opening of one (just one) present, the coal in the shoe, and many others.
However, what about the single guy? Or the family of just men, where four sons and a father gather the night before the fat man rappels down your chimney? What about the traditions that don’t make it into The Night Before Christmas?
Well, we think those are best encapsulated in an little ode we call ‘Twas The Night Before Man-mas.
‘Twas the night before Man-mas, when all through the house
Not a lady was stirring, not even a blouse.
No stockings were worn by any ladies in there,
No hopes Ms. Johansson would appear sans underwear.
The men were all drunk, too much nog in their heads,
While visions of Die Hard 2 danced on their LEDs.
And papa in his ‘boxers, and I in my slop,
Had just watched Hans, fall for an untimely drop.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
To the door, I stumbled like a lush,
Brother kicked from the loo with the sound of a flush.
The moon on the breast of the nude Scarlett Jo
Gave the lust of sailors to all the men we know.
When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
But a long stretch limousine, and eight ladies with beer.
With a little old driver, with a cape and a cane,
I knew it the moment he shouted, profane.
He moved so fast despite the stick and his limp,
He whistled, shouted, clearly their pimp.
“Now Scarlett! now, Lily! now, Zoe and Little Miss!
On, Richard! On, Robert! on, on Alex and Chris!
From that window! To the the wall!
Now blush away! Blush away! Blush away all!”
When that was all done, hunger did rise by and by,
So we prepared the feast, plates to the sky.
Then we all ate, steak and fish, lobster and shrimp
With cups of gin, with a well-pleased pimp.
And then, after tinkling, I heard in the kitchen
The amorous sounds of my Pops and a some vixen.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
I chuckled and crept away with nary a sound.
The pimp was dressed in fur, from his cap to his foot,
He fixed his feather and tapped with his boot.
So a bundle of cash I handed to him,
Fat stacks, and he thanked me, calling me Jim.
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,
The smoke from the bowl circled his head like a wreath.
He had a big grin and a bit of the munchies,
He laughed and he laughed, eating a fistsful of jellies!
He was fat, but when I teased, he told me to look at myself,
And I laughed a bit nervous, thinking it best for my health!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And gave the ladies twenty percent. They called him a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, he snorted snow and called ’em all hoes!
He sprang to his limo, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a heat seeking missle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Man-mas to all, and to all a good-night!”