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Be good for goodness sake by Angel Perkins

December 20, 2012

‘Twas the night before Christmas
and all through our house,
not a creature was stirring
not even my spouse.
He told me he’d help me
and then pushed a button,
which proved he’d just sit in
his chair and do nothing.

The stockings were hung
by the chimney with wire,
to keep them from falling
where there should be fire.
The kids were both snoring,
all stuffed in their beds,
while visions of video games
bleeped through their heads.

And I, while still wrapping,
and him in the chair,
he had just settled down,
him neglecting his share,
of the wrapping and taping
and stuffing in bags,
then his voice from the office
said, “I could do tags.”

A miracle, some magic,
an omen it was,
for him to be helping
through ESPN’s buzz.
That dumb DVR,
how I wished it would clatter,
to the floor for an evening
(or more for that matter).

The TV still on,
and his butt still on perch,
while mine, balanced over
the paper would lurch,
to cut a straight line,
for the paper to fit,
the present I hoped
to wrap up in it.

The piles of kids’ gifts,
(How were there so many?),
seemed not to deplete
and they didn’t earn any.
Those misbehaved offspring
they hadn’t a hint,
that the money we’d spent
would no doubt dent the Mint.

While the fat man got credit
and our cards were max’d out,
the power of the fairy tale
made me want to shout:
“There is no St. Nick;
your dear Santa’s a lie!”
But they’d hate me for telling
and then they would cry.

So I cut and I ribboned,
removed tags and placed taped,
while my husband sat back,
at the screen he just gaped.
Not a gift came with batteries
and the price tags I fought,
to reinforce the belief,
Santa’s gift aren’t bought.

I looked up at the clock,
NO! a quarter ‘til two?
My temper now riled,
I threw at him a shoe.
“Now help me! You’ll wrap man.
You know what to do!”

He looked up at me mildly,
like he hadn’t clue,
as to why I was fussy,
it must be “THAT TIME,”
while I looked back and wondered
how far he would fly,
if I planted my foot hard,
in his cushioned bum.
No, it wasn’t too nice
but it relieved me some.

“Just do it! I need you!”
I shouted and then,
I recalled the strategy
that gets through to men.
“Please help me honey;
if we hurry to be done,
then we can get on
to our own Christmas fun!”

“I just takes so long
to wrap all this alone.”
He looked back with eagerness,
how his greedy smile shone!
To my side he arrived,
he placed gifts ‘round the tree.
He threw out all the trash,
ripped off price tags with glee.
In no time we finished,
the work was now done
and he gave me that look,
(you all know the one).

I thanked him for helping,
and walked off to bed.
He asked aloud,
“How ‘bout that thing that you said?”
I smiled as I gave him
the plate full of treats
that the kids had so kindly
left Santa to eat.
“Honey here’s your reward,
for being so kind.
Leave a thank-you from Santa
too if you don’t mind.”

He stared at me stunned
and a little confused.
“I think you’ve been naughty
and I’ve just been used!”
I replied, “So you have,
but you’ve done what you should,
to prove to dear Santa
that you have been good.”

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