Twas the Month Before Christmas...

‘Twas the month before Christmas,
And all through the block,
No one was having
More fun than the Clot.

We stand all a-dazed,
And we hate to admit this,
But did some get the license number
Of the sleigh that just hit us?

Things seemed so normal.
Things seemed so routine,
Till our fellow turned yellow,
And began guzzling gemcytobene!

They put in a PICC line.
His chest they tattooed.
They radiated him rosey,
Then said, “Now eat lots of food!”

The Clot was all nestled
All snug in their beds,
While visions of muffin mix
Danced in their heads.

The fufu bag was hung
By the chimney with care,
In hopes that more fufu
Soon would be there.

Joan in her “Minnie Mouse,”
And Dennis in Saran Wrap
Had just settled down
For a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn
There arose such a clatter,
We sprang from the bed
And lost control of our bladder.

Dennis went to the window
Like an agile young pup,
Tore open the shutters,
And simply threw up!

When what to our wondering
Eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh,
And seven mutated dwarf reindeer.

With a little old driver,
So lively and quick,
We knew in a moment
We were all gonna be sick!

Chemo and radiation
Are going to cause ya,
A little discomfort,
And a whole lot of nausea!

“Now Pukey! Now Barfy,
Come Yukky. Don’t be a sissy!
On Crappy! On Queasy!
And hustle up, Pissy!”

Santa slid down the chimney
And landed on his ash…es.
And asked each one of the Clot
What would bring us the most happiness.

Brodi requested more “hunkas”
And for her Dad a tighter belt.
She explained, “He’s not scrawny…
We consider him ‘svelte!’.”

Erin was naughty,
And up to her usual tricks.
She asked for cleavage for Mom,
And lots of muffin mix!

Joan said, “All I want
(Besides a buttload of money)
Are chest tatts for Dennis
That say, “I love Joni!”

Dennis said his wish list
This year is quite simple.
“All I want, Dear Santa,
Is the procedure called ‘Whipple’.”

“It’s done!” laughed old Santa.
“That would give me a thrill!
And because you’ve been such a good boy,
How ‘bout I toss in Dr. Sean Mulvihill?”

Well, there was such joy in Clotville,
Just what you’d expect.
They shouted together,
“Resect! Resect!”

And everyone was singing.
Even the angels all caroled.
You know these angels by name…
There’s Tom, Dick and Herald.

And the family hugged St. Nick
Round his fat little pot.
And gave him the title
Jolly old Santa Clot.

Thank heaven, the poem’s done,
But before we give it a rest,
The best Christmas to you all…
‘Cuz you all are the best!