Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar plums danc'd in their heads,
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
I drift'd off to slumber, with nothing to fear,
For I knew in just hours, Christmas would be here;
When all of the sudden I heard such a clatter...
It was my wife. Shaking me awake.
"What? What is it?"
"I heard something outside."
"I didn't hear anything."
"I think someone's in the backyard."
"Nobody's in the backyard, go to sleep."
As my mind slipp'd into a state of sedation,
my head roll'd into its pillow indentation;
Then she shook me again right out of my sleep,
Are you serious, woman?! What the beep?!
"I heard it again. Go outside and see what it is."
"It was probably a cat or something. Go to sleep."
"It's three in the morning."
There was silence; not of the good kind,
I knew I was to hear a piece of her mind.
"I can't even believe you right now. You always do this. What is wrong with you..."
I sprang from my bed and storm'd off to the kitchen,
I was tired and angry and sick of her b... constructive criticism;
Rummaged through the junk drawer to find a flashlight,
walked out the backdoor, and into the night.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
made my naked feet freeze, it was forty below.
When, what to my wondering eyes did appear,
not a burglar, or cat, or a grazing mule deer;
T'was the culprit responsible for the loud crash,
a friggin' raccoon, digging thro' the trash.
Grasping a rock, I aimed for its dumb head,
It hiss'd and scamper'd off, and I to my bed.
I lept under the covers to escape the chills,
My wife now watching TV; Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
"What was it?"
"A racoon. What are you doing?"
"I can't sleep."
"Can you lower the volume?"
"Yeah. Thank you for going outside."
"No problem. Love you."
I sigh'd with exhaustion as into the night,
I lay there awake, listening to the awful women fight;
No sugar plums in my head, can't catch a single wink,
When my wife's foot touches mine, which makes me think;
It's late, we're alone, this could be our chance,
To do the horizontal tango, the mommy/daddy dance.
Time to romance her, but to do it just right;
I rolled over, "Wanna be on MY naughty list tonight?"
And I heard her exclaim, as she turned out the light...
"Eww, don't talk like that. It's Christmas."