Same meme, different person.
The "fictional memory" meme again.
'Twas the night before Christmas of 2006,
and we hadn't been on that Good List of St. Nick's
in eight or nine years; each winter so cold
we'd get naught but coal lumps. That shit had got old.
So we hatched us a plan for some holiday cheer,
and listened in wait for those pawing reindeer.
As midnight approached, though, we must have dozed off;
I blame the eggnog. Or else the Zoloft.
But then I awoke to the clatter above,
and tossed you aside with an unseemly shove
(you didn't wake up, so I deemed it okay).
At last! The arrival of Santa and sleigh!
I waited some more for the scrabbling sounds
of boots in the chimney. Then I turned around.
Back to the bedroom I dashed in a blink!
I shook you and whispered and raised a small stink,
"Awake from your slumber! Arise from your bed!
Santa is here! No one's guarding his sled!"
You blinked away all the last vestige of dreams,
and rose and got on with our latest of schemes.
As quiet as moonbeams [insert line that rhymed],
we opened the window; roofward we climbed!
The reindeer, up close, how they snuffled and steamed,
appearing less tiny than once they had seemed.
They proved quite unskittish, those coursers of Claus',
and we sat in the sleigh without giving them pause.
As soon as you buckled yourself in your seat,
I snapped at the reins. You cried, "Damn, this is sweet!"
And then we were rocketing over the sky
and I found that I didn't quite like it so high,
so I brought us down to a height of two stories,
grazing the tops of the buses and lorries.
You kept yourself busy by rifling through
the sack in the back, and were calling, "Ooh! Ooh!
A teddy bear just like I wanted last year,
with spirit that glows when you pull on its ear!
And here's something for that new client I got;
a game of connect-inner-energy-dots!"
I said, "While it's fun here in charge of the cruising,
I think it's my turn to be there perusing
our ill-gotten bounty, so let's switch off now!"
(Which, switch that you are, you were eager, and how!)
As you took the reigns, I took to the goods,
and looked for those things that most tickle my moods.
Hundreds of teddy bears looked up at me.
Thousands of barbie dolls stared vacantly.
Aside from an ant farm and spy glass or two,
there really was naught that was worth a review.
"Where are the nipple clamps? Where are the crops?
Where are the toys for the bottoms and tops?"
I cried; then felt dumb as I came to remember
that it's only kids he brings toys in December.
Well that got me cross, and I started to sulk
and get mad, when you shouted, "Now don't go all Hulk!
Reign in that anger, and channel it too;
recall, transformation's the thing you should do!"
So I stuck out my tongue, then admitted you're right,
and I sat and I contemplated most the night.
Then I had it! I'd hit the nail square on the head,
and I pressed the "Home" button (which blinked and was red).
The sleigh turned around and it headed due north
and I took the reigns, stood dramatically forth
as we arced through the night to that far northern pole...
then I hit "Autopilot", 'cause, man, it was cold!
And we had to go huddle together for heat
in the sack in the back of the red vinyl seat.
(Okay, I admit it, that part I had planned.
Blame me, if you like; I'll blame it on glands.)
At last we alit, as the reindeer set down
in front of that arctic workshop of renown.
We hustled inside and we grabbed us an elf,
and you said, kind of getting all full of yourself,
"New management's just taken over this shop.
We know that you're tired, what with working nonstop
on the toys for the kids, but there's more work to do --
but there'll be an overtime bonus for you!"
I took my turn and I shouted and bossed,
"Now hurry! It's late! There's no time to be lost!
Gather around, there's an order to rush.
Get all the leather and latex and plush
that we have now in stock!" and they darted and ran
and those awesome small folks soon enacted our plan.
Before the dawn started to crest the sky's edge,
we'd hauled a new sack on the rear of the sledge.
"Now go!" I implored them, "You've done all I asked.
Now go take a nap, or a drink, for at last
your toil is over for the rest of the year!"
("And fast," I then muttered, "'the next's almost here.")
Than back to the south we rushed and we sped,
and delivered the world some new toys from our sled;
a new age of wonders and happies and joys,
with a new demographic receiving the toys.
So on Christmas morning, though kids must have sobbed,
(feeling they'd been good and then gotten robbed),
merry and mirthful and laughing adults
locked themselves in their bedrooms with joyous results.
And after our trip, we felt pleased with ourselves,
and flew our way back to our shop full of elves.
I think that they like us much better than Nick
(whom I've ve heard them refer to as "that old prick");
in any event, they all seem to enjoy
the changes we've brought to their crafting of toys.
'Twas the night before Christmas of 2006,
and we hadn't been on that Good List of St. Nick's
in eight or nine years; each winter so cold
we'd get naught but coal lumps. That shit had got old.
So we hatched us a plan for some holiday cheer,
and listened in wait for those pawing reindeer.
As midnight approached, though, we must have dozed off;
I blame the eggnog. Or else the Zoloft.
But then I awoke to the clatter above,
and tossed you aside with an unseemly shove
(you didn't wake up, so I deemed it okay).
At last! The arrival of Santa and sleigh!
I waited some more for the scrabbling sounds
of boots in the chimney. Then I turned around.
Back to the bedroom I dashed in a blink!
I shook you and whispered and raised a small stink,
"Awake from your slumber! Arise from your bed!
Santa is here! No one's guarding his sled!"
You blinked away all the last vestige of dreams,
and rose and got on with our latest of schemes.
As quiet as moonbeams [insert line that rhymed],
we opened the window; roofward we climbed!
The reindeer, up close, how they snuffled and steamed,
appearing less tiny than once they had seemed.
They proved quite unskittish, those coursers of Claus',
and we sat in the sleigh without giving them pause.
As soon as you buckled yourself in your seat,
I snapped at the reins. You cried, "Damn, this is sweet!"
And then we were rocketing over the sky
and I found that I didn't quite like it so high,
so I brought us down to a height of two stories,
grazing the tops of the buses and lorries.
You kept yourself busy by rifling through
the sack in the back, and were calling, "Ooh! Ooh!
A teddy bear just like I wanted last year,
with spirit that glows when you pull on its ear!
And here's something for that new client I got;
a game of connect-inner-energy-dots!"
I said, "While it's fun here in charge of the cruising,
I think it's my turn to be there perusing
our ill-gotten bounty, so let's switch off now!"
(Which, switch that you are, you were eager, and how!)
As you took the reigns, I took to the goods,
and looked for those things that most tickle my moods.
Hundreds of teddy bears looked up at me.
Thousands of barbie dolls stared vacantly.
Aside from an ant farm and spy glass or two,
there really was naught that was worth a review.
"Where are the nipple clamps? Where are the crops?
Where are the toys for the bottoms and tops?"
I cried; then felt dumb as I came to remember
that it's only kids he brings toys in December.
Well that got me cross, and I started to sulk
and get mad, when you shouted, "Now don't go all Hulk!
Reign in that anger, and channel it too;
recall, transformation's the thing you should do!"
So I stuck out my tongue, then admitted you're right,
and I sat and I contemplated most the night.
Then I had it! I'd hit the nail square on the head,
and I pressed the "Home" button (which blinked and was red).
The sleigh turned around and it headed due north
and I took the reigns, stood dramatically forth
as we arced through the night to that far northern pole...
then I hit "Autopilot", 'cause, man, it was cold!
And we had to go huddle together for heat
in the sack in the back of the red vinyl seat.
(Okay, I admit it, that part I had planned.
Blame me, if you like; I'll blame it on glands.)
At last we alit, as the reindeer set down
in front of that arctic workshop of renown.
We hustled inside and we grabbed us an elf,
and you said, kind of getting all full of yourself,
"New management's just taken over this shop.
We know that you're tired, what with working nonstop
on the toys for the kids, but there's more work to do --
but there'll be an overtime bonus for you!"
I took my turn and I shouted and bossed,
"Now hurry! It's late! There's no time to be lost!
Gather around, there's an order to rush.
Get all the leather and latex and plush
that we have now in stock!" and they darted and ran
and those awesome small folks soon enacted our plan.
Before the dawn started to crest the sky's edge,
we'd hauled a new sack on the rear of the sledge.
"Now go!" I implored them, "You've done all I asked.
Now go take a nap, or a drink, for at last
your toil is over for the rest of the year!"
("And fast," I then muttered, "'the next's almost here.")
Than back to the south we rushed and we sped,
and delivered the world some new toys from our sled;
a new age of wonders and happies and joys,
with a new demographic receiving the toys.
So on Christmas morning, though kids must have sobbed,
(feeling they'd been good and then gotten robbed),
merry and mirthful and laughing adults
locked themselves in their bedrooms with joyous results.
And after our trip, we felt pleased with ourselves,
and flew our way back to our shop full of elves.
I think that they like us much better than Nick
(whom I've ve heard them refer to as "that old prick");
in any event, they all seem to enjoy
the changes we've brought to their crafting of toys.