Friends of Dave #314: he sees you when you're sleeping
The annual "Twas The Night Before Christmas" preamble.
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‘Twas the night before Christmas, way way past dusk,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a billionaire troll like Elon Musk.
You see this is the first Christmas in some time without fears of urgent care,
Yay! We can now go to grandma’s house unmasked, if we so boldly dare.
The children were finally nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of the latest TikTok “Wednesday” dances replayed over and over in their heads;
And Momma in her comfy flannel PJs, and I in a festive under garment,
Tacitly followed Momma’s “no Christmas nookie” rule that began when we lived in our first apartment.
When suddenly out on the front porch there was quite a hub-bub,
“What the hell was that?” Momma mumbled, “Did you again call late night GrubHub?”
She then returned to her stupor, rolled over, and endeavored a snore.
This happens every time we order take out and I can’t take it any more.
I thought nothing of it, and tried to coax Mr. Sandman back to deliver me some slumber.
But next to me was Momma viciously sawing wood, and she seemed to have an endless supply of lumber.
There was the ruckus once again, I heard that incessant noise,
It sounded like someone was breaking in to the house, and the guy had a bag of toys.
It was a big burly man alright, and he seemed kinda peeved.
If his intent was to get my attention, it was a goal he had achieved.
“Yeah I see you when you’re sleeping,” he said, “I know when you’re awake.”
“I can hear your wife is snoring. Dammit, just let me in for goodness sake.”
There on my lawn was Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and a couple of others.
“Vixen and Cupid quietly quit,” Santa said, “If you ask me I’d get robots to replace them all if I had my druthers.
Everyone wants to work from home, these lazy you-know-whats.
They’re on Slack all day throwing around terms like "micro aggression” while they sit on their elfen butts.”
You gotta feel for Santa, he only means to do the world good, you see.
Who knew that even St. Nick had to adapt to challenges in the modern workplace, you know, like you and me?
“Reindeer refuse to fly more than 3 hours at a time,” he continued, “Roof landings are now banned.
HR is completely overwhelmed. Some elves no longer identify as 'elves’ and now protest building anything by hand.”
With that I let Santa in the front door, as he seemed like a man who just needed to vent.
With Momma snoring I was not sleeping tonight. That ship had surely sailed and went.
So off to the fridge I scurried so I could offer Santa a beverage and some food.
I hated seeing him in state like this, and I just hoped I could lighten his mood.
He plopped on the couch, like a tired man older than his years.
He said he was fine with some leftover pizza and a couple of cold craft beers.
As he continued to tell me his tales of woe, I couldn’t help but have a think.
Is Santa going to finally throw in the towel? Is all of this going to be what finally takes him to the brink?
His eyes – they did not twinkle…. his dimples were not merry.
Was the North Pole really a sh*t sundae, and workplace entitlement just the cherry?
“I really do try my best to get things right,” he said as he gave his beer a long chug.
“I used to consider them as family and now my GC counsels me that I can’t give them a hug.”
Wow this somehow took a dark turn and, Friends, I’m sure you had wished you had been given a warning.
Think about how I felt? I’m no therapist. Could I get him off my couch by morning?
“Wow I’m really sorry you have to deal with this Santa,” I said with a sudden burp that was smelly.
“But do you know anyone else with a red suit to spread Christmas cheer?” and gave him a loving poke in his belly.
Yes he was chubby and plump and he could tell I was a fan.
He stood up with a chuckle and said, “Well, it sure as hell ain’t going to be Spider Man.”
He mustered a wink of his eye and said “Many thanks for the brew.”
“You were kind to let me air my grievances. I know just the thing to do for you.”
He then spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And put boxes beneath the tree, with each one he gave a little twerk.
There was one final big box he placed, on it was a special large bow.
And giving a nod to me before he left, I felt there was something I needed to know;
“Santa, is that for me? Is it going to put a big smile on my face?
What’s in the box dear Santa Claus? I’m sure every guess I have will be off base.”
He gathered his things, leaving my house with one last “Ho Ho Ho” from Old St. Nick.
“You might not be getting any action, but some earplugs for you and a CPAP machine for the Missus might just do the trick!”
______
Hope you liked it. Safe travels, enjoy the break and get some much needed rest, Friends.
XOXO
Dave
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