The Night Before Christmas (a kangaroo tale)

The Night Before Christmas (a kangaroo tale)

A Poem by The Last Ronin

A christmas poem with a twist from my days managing a gas station


Twas the night before Christmas
When throughout Kangaroo
the store was quite empty
there was nothing to do

The rednecks were all passed out
drunk in their sheds
while visions of Nascar
raced through their heads

The clock's hands swept slowly
the long night dragged on
I cursed under my breath
and wandered back to the john

I finished on up
and walked out on the floor
around the novelty rack
and past the front door

When, out near the pumps
there arose such commotion
I ran to the emergency pump stop
fearing explosion

Out on the island
on top of pump 4
was a beat up old pinto
a fat guy getting out of the door

He had a dirty white beard
and a red velvet suit
a wide plastic belt
and filthy black boots

He weaved from the wreckage
and bobbed and he swerved
and then as i watched him
he tripped on the curb

He picked himself up
and gave a great roar
he flung himself forward
and fell through the door.

I thought i recognized him
as he lay on the ground
grunting and cursing
and flailing around

I tried hard to place him
then it all clicked
lying before me
was drunken Saint Nick.

He got to his feet
and wandered around
to the back of the store
were beer was to be found

The cooler doors slammed
the bottles they jingled
the around the corner
came a wasted Kris Cringle

A case of Schlitz in each hand
the old man came stumbling
tripped on the cheetos and
sent his beer tumbling

He cursed and he spat
as he paid for his beer
picked it up and exclaimed
"I'm outta here!"

He missed the door twice
on his way back outside
finally found it and bumbled
out to his ride

He threw he booze in
and opened the door
sat down and fired it
up with a roar

But i heard him exclaim
as he hit a streetlight
"Merry Schlitzmas to all
and to all a good night!!!"


© 2008 The Last Ronin

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Added on August 25, 2008


The Last Ronin
The Last Ronin

Not to far out in the sticks, but deep in an everpresent gloominess, GA

The Last Ronin has been writing short fiction off and on, mostly off, for the last decade. He grew up all over the united states first as a military brat, then as a military officer himself. He ha.. more..