We’re late in posting this, but we had a lot of fun writing it and wanted to share.
’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the store,
Not a wedding was scheduled, nor proms at the door.
The laundry was hung in the warehouse with care,
While Molly typed emails and tousled her hair.
The sales staff was nestled all snug with their tea,
Crouched back in the breakroom, so Rob wouldn’t see.
The seamstresses upstairs then started to yap
About last-minute Larrys and all of that flap,
When out in the lot there arose such a crash!
Rob sprang from his desk, prepared to tongue-lash.
He raced to the window, an elegant dash.
(“That slender waistline!” Brad jealously gnashed.)
Bright stars on a black satin Christmas Eve sky,
Glittered like sequins on tacky bowties.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a portly old man in red suit of cashmere.
His trousers were baggy; his jacket, too tight,
But he hoped that our ladies might make it fit right.
“Maria, Lucinda, and Mary, start sewing,”
Quoth Robert, “this man, he has places he’s going!”
Steady as surgeons the seamstresses stitched,
They tailored his trousers with fingers bewitched.
Meanwhile, downstairs, Brad pulled Santa’s ear,
And tried to upsell him some stylish headgear.
Jayline grabbed some paper, then inked up her quill,
“No time like the present to settle your bill!”
He reached for his wallet, then gasped in dismay
And blushed, “Must have dropped it at Country Buffet.”
The shop fell quite silent; Rob’s breezy demeanor
Transformed into something less cheery, nay, meaner.
Well, what did he say? No one still can recall.
But remember, his heart is two sizes too small.
At that point, Kris Kringle and Rob took a stroll.
The latter reminded of stockings of coal
From Christmases past, years ancient and recent.
“You know, Mr. Claus, I’ve been pretty decent….”
Then Santa grinned (Molly called it a “smirk”).
He admonished, “You know, you’ve been some kind of a jerk!
You’re blessed with a business that wins fine awards;
You’ve a staff that does nothing but strive fully towards
Pleasing your customers, new and those loyal.
They work, and they work—they endlessly toil.
So maybe, just once, you’ll let Santa Claus slide,
Perhaps he might send you a bunch of new brides
To rent some tuxedos and suits for their weddings.
You offer a special on custom typesetting?”
Rob stroked his chin, he considered his staff.
Somewhere, he’s sure, he heard Little Brad laugh.
Rob thought of his fortunes, his son and his daughter,
His beautiful wife, who each day aged much hotter.
He grinned at old Santa, and shrugged toward the door,
“This year was real busy; for next year, some more?”
At that point, St. Nick smiled a sigh of relief,
Pardoned for being a tailoring thief.
Suit expertly cut, he trudged to his sleigh,
But he claimed it felt tight when he moved. “That’s the way
…A suit should fit!” Molly exclaimed, turning pink,
Then Santa Claus smiled, and he gave a sly wink.
He jumped on his sleigh, then his deer he did lash,
And he whispered to Brad, “Shave that hipster moustache.”
As Santa’s sleigh lifted, he sprayed magic mist
Across our eyelashes, which caused us to list
Into a deep sleep and a place that was dreamy,
To sneak his pit-stop at Acushnet Creamery.
When he’d finished his cone (they’re home-made, did you know?)
Then Santa climbed back on his sleigh in the snow.
The reindeer, they tugged the old elf out of sight;
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
-By Robert Brunelle, 12/23/17