Twas the day after Christmas, when all through the house,
Every creature was stirring, me, my two-year-old, and spouse;
The stockings were empty, dismantled without care,
In them had been 2 planes, an elephant, a cow and a bear;
Max (the two-year-old) had arisen from his bed;
With visions of more presents dancing in his head;
And mamma in her sweatpants, and I in my slacks,
Had just woken our brains from a night of relax,
When up on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the toilet to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The sun on the breast of the iced-over window,
Gave a lustre of deception to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a bird building a nest in my roof’s rotting veneer,
With a flap of its wings so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment I must rid myself of this pestering dick.
More rapid than eagles to the window I sprang,
And shoo’d the bird while calling it names:
“You pest! You rat! You belong in the trees!
You foul, fowl carrying worms and disease!
Get out of my attic, fly away from my roof!
Now dash away! Dash away! You’re as bad as Shia LaBeouf!”
Last night we had watched Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull,
When Shia and Harrison had acted quite dull;
So out through the window I climbed without fun,
With a hand full of plastic, and a staple gun—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the ceiling,
The flapping and flopping of each little wing.
As I poked out my head, and was turning around,
Away flew the bird who flew to the ground.
He was quite pissed off being evicted to the cold,
Inside had been warm with rotting wood and new mold;
A pre-holiday construction project that had slowed to a sputter,
And left me with a house that did not have a gutter.
His eyes—how they burned beneath his down so furry!
His beak became pert with hated and fury!
I fired a few staples into the wood that was solid,
And celebrated my victory with a full volume holla;
The entrance to his lair now covered in plastic,
I rid my family of the bird with a move quite gymnastic;
I closed up the window and locked in the heat,
Then stepped on a pointy new toy that punctured my feet.
The two-year-old cried at the obscenities I did shout,
As I fell on the floor while writing about;
Max wanted more toys, more presents, more Santa,
But all he got was some yogurt and a banana;
Christmas was over and we all felt the sadness,
Of the letdown the day after the holiday madness,
Kate tried to stay happy with peppermint tea,
While I took a pill to combat my ongoing anxiety;
I sprang to my car, to my family I gave a whistle,
And away I flew like the down of a thistle.
Back to work I went, ere I drove out of sight—
“Happy Day After Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”