“Twas nite of the twenty-fourth of December, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Not even Dayzee who was passed out from celebrating with too much Fireball.

With the fireplace roaring she was face down in a sprawl.

Her stockings were haphazardly hung from the mantle

And dreamed of a former girlfriend Chantal.

With alcohol addled dreams of dancing sugarplums.

What are sugar-plums? They sound like something to stay away from.

With a bump and a thump from somewhere outside Dayzee drug herself awake with a straggle

She shook her head, “Alright who does Dayzee have to strangle?”

“Dayzee was having the best dream. Someone has been naughty,

The List is coming out and that’s no manicotti.”

Dayzee grappled with gravity to not tip over as she raised the curtain to see the snow dotted with hoof prints.

The hoof shapes sprinkled throughout the snow reminded Dayzee of a breakfast blintz

That she ate once long ago but that’s a story for another day.

Glimpsed a shadow passing over head that looked like a sleigh

Dayzee shook her head not believing her eyes (after all it was the whole bottle of Fireball she’d drank)

In the moon light Dayzee was sure it was a prank,

When what to her blearing eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,

With a fat guy dressed in red and a long white beard,

And Dayzee thinks that’s weird.

Opening the window, Dayzee yells,

“Hey get off Dayzee’s roof! You don’t want me to start casting spells!”

With the sound of the prancing of each little hoof

Which caused Dayzee to worry as she didn’t think much of her roof.

Who was this person who had settled on her housetop?

What did they think? This wasn’t a hilltop.

Sounds from up above proved to Dayzee the fellow over head

Was pushing for inclusion on The List and so could end up dead.

Dayzee heard, “Dasher! get up there, Dancer! don’t stomp, make room Prancer and Vixen!

Comet! Leave Cupid alone. How many times do I have to say something? Squish together Donner and Blitzen!”

Dayzee hears a creaking of rafters and then a scream of pain coming down the chimney,

Ah Dayzee thinks, good thing she started the fire. Let this stranger learn his mistake. The ninny.

With a cry and a thud Dayzee heard the thump of a body hitting the ground,

Popping up from the ground and declaring, “I meant to do that!” Dayzee noticed the man’s trousers were browned.

A bag filled with wrapped objects then slid off the roof and planted it’s weight on top of the man’s cranium

Knocking him out as Dayzee knew the man’s cranium wasn’t made of titanium.

With worry of a lawsuit Dayzee needed damage control,

Thinking it wasn’t her fault, Dayzee started thinking of a loophole.

But first she needed a drink.

A drink to help her think,

Looking around she spied the Jamaican rum

“Now where did Dayzee put the hot Ruttered Bum mix, hmm?”

Mixing the two ingredients together Dayzee contemplated her dilemma.

Feeling nothing like Cinderella,

Dayzee came up with a solution

That demanded precise execution.

The trouble was Dayzee needed to use the last of her Jamaican rum to pull this off.

Dayzee weighed the waste. Don’t scoff.

She hated to misuse alcohol.

But figured if she poured it all over the bizarre man,

She could say he climbed onto her roof and fell, that was the game plan.

Walking outside in the snow she approached the fallen dude,

Opening the bottle and beginning to pour. With attitude

He sputtered awake, “Rudolph I told you to stop poking me with that nose!”

“Why you climbin’ on Dayzee’s roof?” said Dayzee, “You fell like dominos.”

“What? Where? Why do I smell like a drunken man’s wardrobe?”

“Not my fault you fell and hit your temporal lobe.”

Dayzee’s plan is working as the not so jolly old elf looks confused

As Dayzee explains what happened, with embellishments, the dude looks less and less amused.

With a wink of his eye, is he having a stroke, Dayzee wonders?

He gathered the fallen item and ignoring the blunders,

He turned to Dayzee and feeling his nose to see if it was broken

Nope not broken but if it were Dayzee wouldn’t be heartbroken.

He was chubby and plump, what the heck is he doing

Climbing down strange chimney’s Dayzee hopes for no suing.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to work

Started gathering the fallen packages, then turned and said, “Dayzee you’re a jerk!”

Laid his finger aside his nose, Dayzee realized he was flipping her the bird,

And as he groaned his way into the tiny sleigh, it could be heard,

As the sleigh sprang into the night, “Dayzee you suck.”

And Dayzee responded with a shake of the fist, “St Nick next time duck!”

But St Nick got the last word as he flew out of sight—

“Merry Christmas to all—not you Dayzee it’s coal for you—and to all a good night!”

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