'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the house
"Preps haven't been started!" Mom started to grouse.
"We don't have a tree and the lights are all knotted
And the market eggnog is sugary and clotted."
The stockings, when pulled from ye old Public Storage
Were eaten by moths who mistook them for porridge.
Each embroidered name was now just tattered threads.
The reindeer that graced them had all lost their heads.
The Christmas tree lot was a Jack in the Box
With service by teens sporting bright green mohawks.
A search for a lot using mobile phone apps
Left Mom's aging eyeballs about to collapse.
Then lo and behold, when a new lot was sighted,
We knew in an instance our purchase was blighted.
The helpers were fighting with roaring chainsaws -
Enough to give even the bold buyer pause.
Their eyes, how they twinkled! Their do-rags? How merry!
Their screams and their grunts and their snarls were too scary.
So off to the Y lot? Expensive. Absurd!
We drove to Home Depot along with the herd.
But the tree wouldn't fit in the back or the trunk
So had to get help from the parking lot drunk.
He helped us attach our fine tree to the rack
With string that he'd squirreled away in his sack,
Mom slipped him a ten dollar bill as his pay -
Enough to go buy him a fine Chardonnay.
And finally home, with our tree and our treasures,
We started on our Christmas pet-proofing measures.
(to be continued with the next Christmas bracelet)
This bracelet's right here, and it's on as an auction.
It's jammed full of charms - a right jolly concoction.
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