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Thursday, December 19, 2013


This parody is meant in fun. I hope you take it in the spirit in which it's intended, and with apologies to Clement Moore...


‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, especially my spouse;
Dirty clothes were piled ‘round the house with care,
In hopes a housekeeper soon would be there;

The children were tucked all tight in their beds,
While visions of computer games danced in their heads;
And me in my babydolls, and hubs loaded with booze,
Had just bedded down for a long winter's snooze,

When out in the driveway there came such a howl,
I reached for my gun, my humor most foul.
Away to the closet I flew like a flash,
To grab and hide our huge pile of cash.

The moon shining down on a mound of fresh snow
Lit up the front lawn like a coat of day-glo,
When, what to my weary brown eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh, and eight bloated reindeer,

With a chubby round driver, staggering and thick,
I feared in my heart it might be Ole Nick.
Faster than race cars these fat reindeer came,
And he whistled, and hollered, and cursed them by name;

To the top of the roof! to the chimney, y’all!
Now fly away! run away! jump away all!"

As those leaves I didn’t rake, took off on the fly,
Formed a tornado so thick it blinded the eye,

Up to the rickety roof the huge reindeer flew,
With the sleigh full of crap, and drunk old man too.

And then, in a second, I heard on the roof
The stomping and footfall of each clumsy hoof.
As I hauled up my gun, and was loading a round,
Down the chimney the fat man came with a bound.

He was dressed all in red, from his neck to his foot,
In dirty old clothes, ripped and covered with soot;
A greasy bundle of junk he threw on the floor,
And he looked like a thief, a-looting once more.

His eyes -- how bloodshot! his eyebrows how funny!
His cheeks were all flushed, his nose, it was runny!
His leering mouth was drawn up in a grin,
And his stare on me reeked of original sin;

The stump of a stogie he held tight in his teeth,
As the foul smoke ringed me like Caesar’s famed wreath;
He had a broad face and an obscenely round gut,
When he turned, he showed me an enormous red butt.

Despite his appearance, he laughed and guffawed,
So I put down my gun, even Santa is flawed;
With a wink of his eye and a swift little wave,
I found myself happy, smiling, and brave;

In silence he worked, placing packages galore,
Filled all the stockings, hung a wreath on the door,
Placed a fifth on the table, and blowing his nose,
Grabbed the reins, and up the chimney he rose;

He stumbled into his sleigh, to his team gave a shout,
With a running leap, the deer were up and about.
Rubbing my eyes, I heard him curse ‘til he blew out of sight,

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Monday, December 16, 2013


Welcome! Today I have an excerpt from my WIP, the second in the Manhattan Dinner Club series. It doesn't have a definite title yet. It's still early. 
I hate it when he puts his gun on the front hall table. Bess moved toward the door when she heard the bell from the elevator ding. Terry, the handsome cop she was dating, kissed her, then stepped inside. He removed his pistol and carefully placed it on the table.
“Something smells good. Besides you, I mean.” He settled on the sofa. Bess retrieved a beer from the fridge and handed it to him. “Lamb stew. It’s chilly today. Good stew day.”
 “How did you know that’s my favorite?” His blue eyes lit up as he grinned. Pushing to his feet, he joined Bess in the spacious kitchen of her elegant, expensive Manhattan apartment. 

She peeked at the stew, scooping up a little bit on a spoon. She blew on the morsel before feeding it to Terry. He lapped it  up like a little dog being spoiled by its master. 
A bark from the floor grabbed Bess’s attention. Her tiny pug, Dumpling, sat attentively at her feet.
“Someone else wants a taste, too.” Bess spooned up another little bit of stew, blew on it furiously to cool it, then placed it in the dog’s dish. Terry chuckled, watching the small creature clean the sample up quickly.
“Looks like her favorite, too.” He turned his attention to Bess. “Like to get a taste of this, too,” he said, wrapping his arms around Bess. The blonde turned toward him to accept his kiss. He held her to him.
“You’re cuddly,” he whispered.
“So are you.” She closed her eyes, drinking in his scent mixed with a touch of lime aftershave, and  a little sweat after a day of work.  He’s all man.
“Can I have you for dessert?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and shooting her a lustful stare.
The blue-eyed blonde sensed the heat rising to her cheeks as she directed her gaze to the floor. “Could be arranged.” 
“That’s my girl.”  
“Am I? Am I your girl?”  
“Of course you are.”
“Then why do I only see you on Fridays?” 
“I thought I explained. Saturday nights I go undercover.”
“Undercover or under the covers? And with who?”
“I can’t tell you that. Too dangerous.”
“Too dangerous for you or me?” She cocked an eyebrow and rested her hand on her ample hip.