Seasons Gratings, one more time

Lump of coal

Twas the night before
the 25th of December, and
all through the house
there was crap strewn about
The cats were hissing
and smacking each other;
and nary a dry Kleenex
to be found

I and my wife
had just settled down
to an evening
of computer games,
each to his own;
when suddenly
from the front door
there came
such a sound;
as if
religious proselytizers
were knocking
thereupon

That turned out
to be the case
and we were then
faced
with odd little beings
who demanded
that we accept
the true meaning
of this cold icy time of year;
to celebrate
the birth
of someone
who was born
sometime in March,
as far as anybody
who ever actually studied
the subject
could figure.

So we listened
and nodded
and uh-huhed
in agreement,
and they soon
went away.
Jesus Christ!