*Twas Thanksgiving Morning* Twas Thanksgiving morning, the trailer was calm Not a creature was stirring, not even their mom The guests were expected in less than an hour But the service providers had shut down our power The children were nestled all snug in their beds While visions of pumpkin pie danced in their heads But Mom in her apron and I in my toque Were watching the best-laid of plans go to phoque When out from the yard there arose such a clatter I ran to the porch to see what was the matter A turkey was thrashing around, freshly plucked In the mouth of our doberman, soon to be phucked The carpet of feathers, like freshly laid snow Gave the lustre of fall-out to objects below When, what to my horror should roll into view But a large Chevrolet painted red, white and blue With a big bertha driver, so greasy and slick I knew in a flash it must be Uncle Dick, Aunt Ruth and the cousins, all inbred and lame She snorted and yodeled and called them by name: Now, Jimboy! Now, Mongo! Now, Orville and Cracker! Here, McCoy! Here, Drongo! Here, Virgil and Slacker! Git in through the porch! And dont piss on the wall! Or your uncle will use you Fer a punching ball! Like a plague of locusts from times biblical Those boys stripped the kitchen of things edible From shrimp vol-au-vents to the oats for the goat If it wasnt nailed down it was sucked down their throat As, farting and belching and lickety-split The Clampetts waved goodbye and high-tailed it Our real guests were coming, wed nothing to eat! Then Junior spotted a man in the street Resplendent in tie-die and faded brushed denim Got great grade-A garfong, he gargled with venom A bundle of sacks he had flung on his back And he looked like a drug dealer opening his pack His teeth were discolored, his gums they were shrunken His cheeks were cadaverous, hollowed-out, sunken His dark staring reindeer eyes made you think, Whoa! Its obvious here whos been shoveling snow! The stump of a pipe he held tight in his mouth Stank richly of skunk droppings from the Old South He wore a broad scowl and an eighteen-pack belly And a condom-hat smeared with petroleum jelly He was Grumpy and Bashful, such a hybrid elf I shat myself laughing, in spite of myself The dank, bloodshot eyes and the large sagging head Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work Rolled dozens of big ones, then turned with a jerk Inserted a McDonalds straw in his nose And with a big snort, up the chimney he rose We canceled the party and sparked up a reefer With no food to cook we could all take a breather But I heard him exclaim, ere he floated away Happy Thanksgiving, son, youve got eight days to pay!
Posted on: Thu, 28 Nov 2013 16:51:17 +0000
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