The Stinky Stocking

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,

Almost everyone was snoring, especially my spouse.

The stockings I’d worn hung on the back of a chair,

Next to the bed within reach: “Do I dare?”

I grabbed the stinky stocking nearest the bed,

Leaned toward my spouse and gently turned his head.

I opened his mouth so slowly and sweet,

And inserted the leggings, each one by the feet.

I wrapped the remainder ‘round under his nose,

To avoid suffocation by said pantyhose.

The snoring though muffled, but still it remained,

Now sounds like a distant approaching freight train!

I placed both my fingers, one in each ear

To keep out the horrible sound that I hear!

“What does a girl have to do,???” I had said,

“To keep that noise from coming out of his big head???”

So I quickly jumped up, determined to stop it

Going through drawers and cabinets and boxes.

Then... I saw. I saw it!!! I found just the cure!

If nothing else works, this’ll do it for sure!!!

So I pulled the small hammer from under the bed,

And carefully aimed it at Jimmy’s big head.

When on my right shoulder an angel appeared,

Saying, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, dear.”

Then on my left shoulder, someone dressed in red,

“Don’t listen to Goody-shoes, nail him in the head!”

“Stupid Angel,!” I said to myself

And I placed the small hammer up high on a shelf.

By this time I felt like I slept with a mower.

I put my feet on his side and I pushed him on over.

I giggled when he hit the floor with a thud,

And I thought, “I’ll teach you to mess with me, Bud!”

But he just kept on snoring, not missing a beat!

How in the world will I ever get sleep???

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

Up there on the shelves of the headboard, so near.

But a pair of ear plugs and a miniature ice pick.

I could plug my ears, and then oh so quick,

Prick holes in his nostrils while dodging his fists.

More rapid than eagles, his fists they would fly

But I could pull it off ... if I was sly.

As he screamed and then shouted, he screamed out bad names.

“Now, Dammit! Now...

“SWEET MOLLY IN A MANGER,!” so angry I said

So I pulled out the suitcase from under my bed.

I grabbed all the things that were mine, that were there

All my makeup and curlers and pink underwear,

All my jewelry, the pictures and my house shoes as well

I knew I was ready to sleep in a motel.

But then he woke up and he started to weep

I can’t believe you moved out while I was trying to sleep!

How could you, my dear sweet apple pie,

How could you move out and leave me to die?

For without you, you know I would die for sure

Rather stay with me and help find a cure!

So I unpacked all the stuff in the suitcase, I fear

And sat down and thought about leaving next year.

I decided I’d give him one more chance,

But if he didn’t come round I’d leave in a glance!

More weary than the parents of an infant newborn,

I crawled back into bed feeling quite forlorn.

I pushed the earplugs in deep, put the pillow over my head,

Pulled the comforter up, my heart filled with dread.

For I knew in a moment, Jimmy would be fast asleep,

And the snoring would begin and I’d be counting sheep.

Well, Christmas is over and this story ain’t right.

So, Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

The End

(Thank Goodness!)

Contributing authors:

Susan Wade, Phillip Secca, Lori Anne Locke,

RoseMarie Combrinck Coetzee, Patsy Bell Hobson