Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Twas the Night Before Christmas

My twisted perspective and warped sense of humor have once again asserted themselves. Unlike previous possessions however, in this particular case I have taken on a rather famous poem (of the above listed title) first printed anonymously, but later credited to Clement Moore. Being dead, he cannot object to such abuse, but may be found spinning in his grave upon the posting of this version. I hope that you enjoy its timely release. 

Twas The Night Before Christmas ... In Toledo  

Twas the night before Christmas, and through Glass City
Not a Creature was stirring, and more was the pity
Red-light cameras were hung, by the stoplights with care
In hopes that new revenues, soon would be there
The people were hiding, like always it seemed
And Council of rubber stamps once again dreamed
But sounds of pure rage from the big office did pour
While workers most wisely just ran for the door
Hizzoner was off on a tantrum again
His target now suburban businessmen
For Take Back Toledo was ready to start
And that can't be good for our old Mayor Cart
His eyeballs were flashing, his fingers were twitching
With radio stations the subject of bitching
He rambled of treatments, both violent and dire
His diatribe dripping brimstone and fire
The lights in the Market, now dimly they glow
But Carty's red face was much brighter you know
He suddenly mellowed in tenor and tone
When finally seeing he wasn't alone
It was me that was trapped with this loony old goat
With hopes that his meds would keep hands from my throat
He glared at me now as if seeing me dead
His coffee cup poised now to throw at my head
I froze in position, a smile stiffly glowing
In hopes that my fear of him wouldn't be showing
I searched for an option, I longed for an exit
I sweated and prayed that I wasn't his target
But just when I thought that I had seen my end He crumpled and folded and started to bend
And right at that moment he just broke down cryin
Admitting his enemies were Fred and Brian
He sobbed and he stammered, he pulled at his hair He blubbered not caring that any was there He stormed and he stamped as he read off offenses
He steamed as he listed the dire recompenses
I told him his problem just might be bad judgment On Flowers and bike paths, he had been so hell bent
I said there was more to his job than new showers Or than thinking of taxes and fees at all hours
I told him to stand up and admit to the blame Own up to it all and his head hang in shame I pointed out he had not done his job well
He drew himself up and threw out "Go to Hell"
He ran from his office and left me to stare He bypassed the lift and went straight for the stair
He raced down the floors to the lobby below No more would he listen, for I think he did know
He stopped at the exit, and with nostrils flaring, attempted to manage a more regal bearing
He sniffed and he growled as he walked away mumbling He unlocked his car with the keys he was fumbling
He climbed in that car where his dog had been penned
And pulled from a handicap spot once again
And I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight
“Daggonit that bastard, he just might be right.” 

Merry Christmas everyone! 

6 comments:

Maggie Thurber said...

Clever, creative, well-written. Thanks and Merry Christmas to you and your family!

Tim Higgins said...

Maggie,

High praise indeed, but I accept no responsibility for the twisted Muse who occasionally visits me in this target-rich environment.

Hooda Thunkit said...

Tim,

If I had the power, I'd dub thee (Sarcastic) Poet Laureate.

After this one, you Deserve it ;-)

Tim Higgins said...

HT,

Let us all hope for the new year, that we get better than we probably deserve ... and certainly better than we have.

As for sarcasm...
Really, I didn't notice. :-)

Roland Hansen said...

"G-d bless us all, everyone."
I think another Tim said that some time ago.

Roland Hansen said...

As another year approaches, I say "Let's ride!"