'Twas the Day After Christmas

"Prunes"*

*Robert, age eight, was the son of strict Presbyterian
parents. He was very, very good, worked hard at
school, did his chores, and was generally helpful and obedient.

But one morning, for some reason, he came down to
breakfast in a very nasty mood. When his mother
served him prunes, he snarled, "I don't want prunes,"
and he refused to eat them.

His parents were aghast, and his father said, "Robert,
you know that G~d commanded children to honor and
obey their parents, and He will punish those who do not."

But Robert still refused and was angrily sent back to
bed, and the prunes were put in the refrigerator.

A few minutes later, a terrible thunderstorm came up
with great roars and flashes of lightning. "Ah, wonderful,"
said Robert's mother,"this will teach him a lesson."

Robert came back down the stairs, went into the kitchen
and opened the fridge. From there, just after another
flash and roar, the boy's voice was heard saying,
"Heck of a fuss to make about a few stupid prunes."

*********************************************************

"'Twas the Day After Christmas"*

*'Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house
Children sat slack-jawed, bored on the couch.
Wrappings and toys littered the floor,
An incredible mess that I did abhor.
With Mom in her robe and I in my jeans,
We waded in to get the place clean.
When suddenly the doorbell: it started to clatter,
I sprang to the Security-View to check out the matter.
The new-fallen snow, now blackened with soot,
Was trampled and icy and treacherous to foot.
But suddenly in view, did I gasp and pant:
An unhappy bill collector and eight tiny accountants.
The door flew open and in they came,
Stern-looking men with bills in my name.
On Discover, on Visa, on American Express,
On Mastercard too, I sadly confess.
Right to my limits, then beyond my net worth,
Over the top I had charged, in a frenzy of mirth.
The black-suited men, so somber, so strict,
I wondered why me that they had first picked.
They stared at me with a look I couldn't miss,
That said, "Buddy, when are you paying for this?"
I shrugged my shoulders, but then I grew bolder,
Went to the cabinet and pulled out a folder.
"As you can see," I said with a smile,
"It's bankruptcy that I'll have to file!"
And with a swoop of my arm, my middle digit extended
I threw the bills in the fire: the matter had ended.
The scent of burnt ash came to my nose,
As up the chimney my credit-worthiness rose.
Without another word they turned and walked out,
Got into their limos, but one gave a shout:
"You may think that's the answer to all of your fears,
But there's nothing you'll charge for at least seven years!"
Received on Thu Dec 31 12:01:08 2009