I was struck with creative inspiration this morning and wrote an epic Christmas poem. It is loosely based off of my own life experience. Enjoy
Twas the night before Christmas, I laid down to rest
From all that good eating of Christmas Eve’s best.
I couldn’t have put one more bite in my mouth
Unless I unbuttoned the buttons down south.
I laid reminiscing of what I just ate
While rubbing my belly and picturing my plate.
The food was delicious and hearty and sweet
I couldn’t resist the temptation to cheat.
When all of a sudden I rumbled inside
My palms started sweating; my eyeballs grew wide.
A gastrointestinal fright was expanding,
I knew I was doomed from a fart so demanding.
I couldn’t have run to the john any faster
While clenching my buttocks to stop a disaster.
The door, it was locked by my sister! Oh crap!
I dashed down the stairs, then my ankle went “snap”!
Though twisted and fretting, I crawled to the door
“It better be open, the john on this floor!”
Behold! It was empty! I gave out a squeak.
I sat on the john and then started to shriek.
“Out Dasher! Out, Dancer! Out Prancer and Vixen!
Out Comet! Out Cupid! Out Donner and Blitzen!
I writhed and I jerked and I felt kinda woozy.
The fault was all mine, I brought on this doozy.
I knew I should stop after plate number two,
But three and four went just to me, not to you.
Stuffed as I was, I managed another.
The tastes in my mouth were unlike any other.
There I was sitting and sweating and drained
From squeezing out all of those deer that were reined.
“How could I eat so much food in one sitting!?!
I lost all control!” I had no pain admitting.
But fate wasn’t done with my punishment yet.
I braced myself slowly, all plagued with regret.
The reindeer had finished, but Santa was here.
My bum was a chimney of fire and fear.
I felt his decline from my head to my toes,
How could I handle this fate that I chose??
I offered a prayer to the good Lord on high.
Could I survive Santa or would I soon die?!?
I screamed and I hollered and out Santa came,
With vengeance he plopped in the bowl of my shame.
“It’s finished! It’s over! I survived the war!”
My Christmas Eve torture existed no more.
Eating so much was a very bad plan.
My Christmas was over before it began.
In bed for the full Christmas Day is no fun!
The lesson I learned is a very big one.
Enjoy Christmas food, but enjoy family more.
It fills you with love and it won’t make you sore.
I hope these words help you and lessen your plight.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!