‘Twas the week before Thanksgiving

‘Twas the week before Thanksgiving, and I was doing my best
not to eat to much crap before the turkey day fest.

Eating no candy, no pie and not cake.
And definitely not cookies; that’d be foolish, for chrissake.

So on Tuesday evening, after a dinner fit for a bird
A delivery truck door closing outside could be heard.

To the front porch I ran like a child with five bucks
when he hears the chiming bells of the ice cream man truck.

I swung the door open for the package I’d greet
And there it sat on the stoop, measuring one foot by two feet.

My eyes, how they widened! My fingers, how they twitched!
The promise of cool shit left me bewildered and bewitched.

“Close the door! It’s cold!” But I didn’t give a darn
But I closed it because, well, we don’t live in a barn.

Out from my pocket I whipped out a knife
(Hey, it’s for work! Really! Not for taking a life!)

I sliced through the tape like I was gutting a rat
(Seriously, it’s for work! Stop looking at me like that!)

Inside the box was a sight that made me cringe
with packing peanuts it was filled from the bottom to the fringe.

I pulled from within a cool looking red thing
A box from Showtime! Oh, what did they bring!?

It wasn’t DVDs. It wasn’t some books.
It wasn’t a Dexter figurine to place in my nook.

After a week of near-fasting, which did not come with ease
Showtime sends me a box of these fucking cookies.

Each was decorated very cool; that much I’ll say
With images from each show that’s on Showtime today.

So, willpower be damned, I took the one labeled Weeds
And devoured the whole thing like a horse eating feed.

I ate it. The Weeds cookie! Stopping: I didn’t even try
I was pissed because, damnit, it did not get me high.

So to all of the networks, please now, listen to me
Do not send me foodstuffs unless they are “special cookies.”

Clacked by Keith McDuffee
on Nov 29, 2008 @ 12:30 EST5EDT