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Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Foster Road,
Creatures were bundling-up scrap metal to load

The needles were strewn by the RV with care,
In hopes their dealer soon would be there;

The addicts were huddled under a tarp in the rain,
With visions of scavenged cardboard complete with a stain;

Mama in her jean jacket and I in my hat,
Had just taken a toke for a long winters nap.

When right off the highway there arose such an affair,
I sprang from my sleeping bag to see who was there;

To the broken out window I flew like a pigeon,
Turns out breaking them out was a bad decision.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
To the front of my RV, a city worker a bound;

He was all dressed in plastic, from his head to his feet,
To empty my septic and offer something to eat;

He had a broad face, though mask covered most,
But I saw in his eye he'd rather be at the coast;

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
Dragging long pumping hoses, with a heave and a jerk;

Witha squint in his eye, and as I took a dose,
It gave me a feeling he thought this was gross;

He sprung up to his to his truck and hung up his hose,
Pulled down his mask and held his nose:

But I heard him exclaim under a cold setting sun,
"Thank you Ted Wheeler, what a great job you've done."

Author Unknown.
 
Last Edited:
Very well written! Excellent job!
Damn I wish! I need to modify the post as "Author un-known". We've had that thing kicking around for a few years. Don't know where we got it. But it is so perfect! As perfect, as in " The Perfect Moron" tod whalen.
 

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