(This week, Writer’s Digest’s Writing Exercise was to make a poem parody of “The Night Before Christmas” but the surprise visitor isn’t Santa. So here’s my take on it.)
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all there were soused.
Not a drunkard was stirring, except for one louse.
For I in a kerchief and a Yankees ball cap,
Was picking through pockets while they all took their nap.
I’d been just strolling past admiring the tree;
The door had been open quite inviting to me.
It’d been quite a party, I could tell that at once.
The first to pass out—his forehead said “Dunce.”
Boys will be boys, as always they say,
Frat guys changed not a bit since my day.
Wallets I found but most had no money,
Spent right away on Jack Daniels with Honey.
I tossed them aside with a lot of disgust.
Didn’t at least one have some kind of a Trust?
I scanned the room, looking far and near.
For something of value, not wanting their beer.
When what to my wandering eyes did I see
But their new Xbox One and their old PS3.
Now a gamer I’m not, for consoles I mean,
Controllers elude me for which I’m not keen.
Disconnecting the wires I gather them up.
Til behind me I hear, “Police! You best stop!”
I dropped them and swung. That started a ruckus.
The cop hit me first, then I fell on my tuckus.
The charges were loaded. The judge threw the book.
I got fifteen years for the stuff that I took.
So now here I stay in a room, eight by ten,
And know I’ll never be on the Nice List again.