| CCA Hoser
Join Date: Nov 2004 Posts: 67
| SMITTY'S CHRISTMAS (payback time!)
On the eve before Christmas,
at ol' Smitty's house,
The old boy was wasted,
and so was his mouse!
Underwear was drying,
on an old clothes line,
that was strung cross the room,
like some wild grape vine.
The stockings were missing,
and so was the tree,
No ornaments, no garland,
there was nothing to see.
But over on a table,
at the end of the room,
was a stack of beer cans,
propped up with a broom.
Atop of this pile,
there sat an old star,
cut out from a beer case,
brought home from the bar.
Across from the table,
stood an old chaise lounge,
and there in the middle,
is where Smitty was found.
Quiet snores filled the air,
while his eyes were shut tight,
only the occassional fart,
broke the silence of night.
He tossed and he turned,
while asleep he did grumble,
"Bring me woofers this year"
not much louder than a mumble.
"I need more BASS Santa,"
from his lips the words sprang,
"and bigger amps, too",
he groggily sang.
When all at once,
there came such a BOOM,
that Smitty woke up,
and leapt 'cross the room
To his front door he ran,
then opened it wide,
there infront of his eyes,
Chris was standing outside.
"Hey brother", he said,
as he stepped thru the door,
"the van brakes just failed,
and your porch is no more."
"I just stopped in to say'""MERRY CHRISTMAS," he cried,
But Smitty knew he was lying,
it was deep in his eyes.
"Don't give me that,
I know why you're here!"
He glanced at his fridge,
"You're after my beer!"
The fight then broke out,
they wrestled and fought,
First Smitty, then Smutsy,
while the mouse just watched.
"It's mine," Smitty cried,
Chris shouted, "then just give me half",
But the fight was cut short,
as they heard a strange laugh.
Both their heads turned,
to face the open fridge door,
and the cold beer inside,
wasn't there any more.
Empty it was,
as bare as can be,
but the tracks cross the room,
were easy to see.
To the door the boys ran,
to peer out in the snow,
scratching their heads,
"Where'd the beer go?"
The twin tracks that they saw,
were from a small Mazda truck,
Chris McVay had been there,
and they were both out of luck!
With footsteps so quiet,
that he thought he'd gone deaf,
Smitty turned back again,
to see that Smutsy had left.
As mad as he was,
he cleaned up the room,
the over-turned table,
the cans and the broom.
He then sat down disgusted,
all disappointed and queer,
He just couldn't believe,
McVay'd stole his beer!
He thought for awhile,
"What am I to do?,
on this cold Christmas Eve,
without any brew?"
All at once the idea came,
he knew exactly his course,
He'd hunt down his friend Denny,
once he'd saddled his horse.
Out in the barn,
where he kept his best bud,
stood "Jerry" the horse,
...just chewing his cud.
Out into the night,
on Jerry he went,
Off to Denny's garage,
where he'd pitch a tent.
For hours they trod,
thru the white falling snow,
into Denny's front yard,
...but no-one was home.
"Now what should I do?",
Smitty then mused,
when a second idea,
in his mind then did fuse.
He turned Jerry around,
and off again the rode,
to find old Jeff Fronk.
or his best friend Moe.
"They've got to have beer,
to stay warm in this cold",
I heard Jeff will drink anything,
but only Canadian for Moe.
Well, they weren't at home either
nor was Jon and Martine,
everyone had vanished!
or so it had seemed.
Off Jerry he fell,
and collapsed in the snow,
"I've no beer for Christmas,
and no where to go."
The wind whistled and howled,
but there he just sat,
knee deep in the snow,
like a big frozen rat.
The hours passed by,
when our boy-Smitty did hear,
a sound cut the air,
that seemed really quite weird.
All of a sudden,
to his blurry red eyes did appear,
a Budweiser sleigh,
pulled by 7 ugly mule deer.
"Go Donny, go Cathy,
go Jordy, and Bo,
On Andy, Carlotta, and Smithers
...Let's go!"
Smitty jumped up,
and waved all he could,
at the approaching beer sleigh,
which looked MORE than good!
The sleigh pulled up,
right next to our boy,
and tossed him a beer,
while his eyes filled with Joy.
This rhyme could go on,
for a week more I'd say,
but the moral told here,
"protect your beer from McVay"
Merry Christmas to all my dear friends.
Especially the ones I picked on in the story above, God bless all of you.
Steve Smith- Team SS
(ps) Rick this is for the 11th reason!
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