'Twas the noon after
Christmas and all through the house
the TV was
blaring some cartoon with a mouse.
The stockings
were flung round the room everywhere,
the toys were
all broken and in disrepair.
The children all wrestled
and jumped on their beds
while candy
canes stuck to the hair on their heads.
Mama in her
sweatpants, curled up in Pop's lap,
had just settled
down for a one hour nap.
When in the back yard
there arose such a clatter
we sprang
from our couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the
window we flew, just like that -
slipped on
a matchbox car, fell on the cat.
The sun shone too bright
on the new fallen snow.
It blinded
us instantly, wouldn't you know.
When what
to our squinting, tired eyes should appear
but the neighborhood
punk from three houses from here.
With his big older brother
(who wasn't too quick...
strong as
an ox, but dumb as a brick.)
Away from
the garage, the delinquents, they flew,
with our son's
brand new bike, and his rollerblades, too.
"Hey, stupid! Hey,
moron! Hey, loser and twit!
Drop all of
my stuff!" Pop said in a fit.
"Those
were this morning's presents, you mean little shits!"
Pop threw
on his gun belt and what clothes he could get.
Toward the front of
the house the boys went around
and through
the front door Pop came with a bound.
A bundle of
toys they had stolen that day
were piled
in the back of their dad's Chevrolet.
Their eyes, they were
dilated. Their pimples, like berries.
Their cheeks
were all sunken. Their noses like cherries.
The goatees
on their chins were covered with blow.
They were
both high as kites as you obviously know.
They filled up their
trunk,threw the bike up on top,
were headed
to the doors when Pop shouted "Stop!"
"Stop
right there, you punks,and I mean NOW! Hey, STOP!
Don't you
know that you've stolen from the home of a cop?!"
They spoke not a word
but continued their work.
Flipped off
dear old Pop and said "Eat Me, you jerk!"
So in his
white squad car Pop chased his new foes,
rammed them
into an oak tree, broke big brother's nose.
He sprang from his car,
to the K-9 gave a whistle,
and the boys
screamed like girls,in their pants, gave a pissle.
And I heard
Pop exclaim, as he hauled them away...
"Merry
Christmas, you punks...Go Ahead. Make My Day."
Author: Amy Williams