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Tuesday, December 17, 2013

'Twas the Night Before Christmas at Pinky's Place

                                                                  Bad Pinky

In honour of my eighteen year old son Padraic, I’ve rewritten the famous, well-loved poem:

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.

‘Twas the night
Before Christmas
While inside the house
Little Pinky was stirring
Some tea for her spouse

The stockings were hung
For her doggies, with care

In hopes
In the morning
Some bones would be there

Teenagers were nestled
All safe in their beds
Visions of juggling apes
Danced in their heads

Pinky in her nightie
With the torn shoulder strap
Settled on the couch
One more present to wrap

When out on the lawn
There arose such a clatter
She sprang from the couch
To see what was the matter

Away to the window
She flew like a bee
To peer through the window
And what did she see?

The moon on the breast
Of the bitumen road
Reflected the
Of twenty dead toads

When what
With her wandering eyes
She did spy
But a beat-up Holden
With eight youths piled inside

With a scruffy young driver
Screeching down the street
Pinky knew in a moment
‘Twas son Padraic, in the seat

As the burnt rubber settled
The youths toppled out
And they whistled
And shouted
And milled
All about

“Hey Gazza!
Hey Dazza!
Hey Bazza!

Cried Pinky.

“Hey Grommit!
Hey Stupid!
Hey Poiter!
Hey Stinky!

You’re waking
The neighbours
With that noisy
Car horn
Now dash-away
boys, for tomorrow’s
Christmas morn!”

And then
In a twinkling
They stared at the roof
At the revving
And stereo
Playing ‘Doof, doof…’

'Twas St Nick on the roof!
Doing donuts around

In a shiny
V8 hot rod
With full surround sound

He was dressed
Like a rev-head
From his head
To his thongs
With a singlet
And board shorts
Tattoos and a bong.

A bundle of letters
He had packed
On his back
One each for
The boys with a

His eyes
How they twinkled
Though red and bloodshot

A result
Of imbibing
More often than not

The stump of his joint
He held tight
In bad teeth
And the smoke
Encircled his head
Like a wreath

He said not a word
All stern
Without noise
And handed
Out the letters
Then said
To the boys

“Whatever you do
Don’t just follow others
Be your own person
And look after
Your mothers.”

He jumped
In his car
Music blaring
Tyres screaming

And the boys
Stared aghast
Their faces
All beaming

Pinky heard them exclaim
In the growing morn light

“It’s Christmas tomorrow
Time to call it a night!”

And off into
The night
They drove quiet
As mice.

Promising they’d

Not be naughty

But nice.

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Thanks to Photoshopping by Scotto.