I don’t know about you, but with all the Christmas madness going on I could use a little comic relief. And what better way to get a laugh than a parody. . . or two.
The poems I have for you today don’t really need an explanation, but I’ll give you one anyway. The first one I wrote yesterday morning (and posted on my author’s Facebook page). Let’s just say I was inspired. The second one I wrote about ten years ago, and is my version of A Visit From St. Nicholas.
O Furnace Guy
(to be sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree)
O furnace guy, O furnace guy
I really must apologize
O furnace guy, O furnace guy
I really must apologize
My basement it’s so messy
and maybe smells like kitty pee
O furnace guy, O furnace guy
I really must apologize
O furnace guy, O furnace guy
was that sneezing I just heard
O furnace guy, O furnace guy
was that sneezing I just heard
Did I not mention dry wall dust
or that my furnace is full of rust?
O furnace guy, O furnace guy
here’s some Kleenex, help yourself
O furnace guy, O furnace guy
you sure are taking your sweet time
O furnace guy, O furnace guy
you sure are taking your sweet time
I’ve got so much Christmas stuff to do
Like wrapping presents, baking too
O furnace guy, O furnace guy
At last you’re done, I wave bye-bye.
A Visit From the Computer Tech
’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, just the optical mouse;
The cords were all strung to the PC with care
In hopes the technician soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of interwebs danced in their heads;
The wife couldn’t take any more of this crap
So she went to bed while I took a nap.
When there on the screen there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the keyboard I flew like a flash,
Grabbed up the mouse and gave it a bash.
The monitor gleamed with a brilliant blue glow
Seeming to mock me as I loudly moaned, “No!”
And what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a security warning that made my eyes tear.
With an attack on my drivers, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment my computer was sick.
More rapid than eagles the popups they came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now Trojan, now Wormy, now BankerFox vixen!
A technician’s coming, my computer he’s fixin’
By installing protection, a router, a wall!
And then he’ll delete you, delete one and all!”
And then, in a twinkling, as I thought to despair,
A van entered my driveway and parked with a flair.
I opened the door with a feeling profound,
And into the house came the tech with a bound.
He was dressed all in blue from his head to his toe
And his jacket was covered with a sprinkling of snow.
A box full of tools was grasped in his hand
And he looked like an angel, come down to land.
His eyes, they were bloodshot, his face was unshaven
From his pocket he pulled a business card graven.
He was balding and old, and he started to sneeze,
Then, spotting the cat said, “I’ve got allergies.”
The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth
And he caught his hat on the door, in the wreath.
A squint of his eye and a shake of his head
Soon gave me to know the bill I would dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
And in a few moments pulled the plug with a jerk.
“The mother board’s fried,” he said, shaking his head.
“And the rest of your hard drive looks like it’s dead.”
Then he packed up the tower and picked up his tools
“Gotta watch these old ‘puters, they’re stubborn as mules.”
He walked to his van, my computer in hand
I had to admit, this did not go as planned.
And I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, but no more surfing to-night.”
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