Tuesday, December 24, 2013

December 23: 'Twas the Night Before the Night Before Christmas

...and all through the house, not a creature was stirring.
I've killed every mouse.

The stockings are hung; the presents are wrapped.
The eggnog is chilling; my poem isn't crap.

That's about all I got left tonight.  I am absolutely exhausted.

Saint Marty's ready for visions of sugarplums and maybe a fifth of Bailey's to warm the cockles of his heart.

It's not cute, no matter what hat you put on it

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