As I was doing the lottery superstition post I remembered this doozy from yesterday. Since it's christmas day, I'll format it appropriately.
Twas the night before christmas and at our booth
the customer lineups were right through the roof.
The lottery ringing, the clinking of metal,
the gamblers wishing their debts would be settled.
With keys in my pocket and notepad in hand
I was stocking the pop cart to fill our demand
when suddenly out of the blue I did see
a customer who I presumed was thirsty.
Now, before I continue, A quip I shall tell-
Our stockroom for pop is hotter than hell.
it is wall to wall concrete, not an air vent in sight
and it's continuing usage I'm attempting to fight.
So this customer spies my pop cart and me,
and he voices a question: "Can I buy drinks from thee?"
I answer affirmative, give him a pop
and take his proffer, not bothering to stop.
Then a tap on the shoulder! Annoyance does flare!
The customer's giving yours truly a glare!
"This pop isn't cold!" He says with a frown.
And the bottle was open. I smirk at the clown.
"I just came from the stockroom. What did you expect?
If you're thinking I won't refund you, you're correct.
You opened the bottle, I can't sell it now.
such an action, my boss just wouldn't allow."
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks turned to roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a flower
like the ass of a puppy just ate something sour.
He was angry and peeved, a right grumpy old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A narrow of eye and a twist of his neck
gave me first hand impressions I was in for some heck.
He threatened to charge me with theft, citing laws.
I pocket the money and reveal my jaws.
"Just try it." I say, moving past him with speed,
Ignoring his assertions of corruption and greed.
He sprang to my heels, and his voice turned to pleading
For the change for the bus he exclaimed he'll be needing
But I stood my ground hard and refused his request
and my temper was possibly thinning, at best.
So after a while, much to his chagrin,
the customer decided that he would give in.
But I heard him exclaim, his voice full of ire,
"Happy Christmas you bastard! May you die in a fire!"
Twas the night before christmas and at our booth
the customer lineups were right through the roof.
The lottery ringing, the clinking of metal,
the gamblers wishing their debts would be settled.
With keys in my pocket and notepad in hand
I was stocking the pop cart to fill our demand
when suddenly out of the blue I did see
a customer who I presumed was thirsty.
Now, before I continue, A quip I shall tell-
Our stockroom for pop is hotter than hell.
it is wall to wall concrete, not an air vent in sight
and it's continuing usage I'm attempting to fight.
So this customer spies my pop cart and me,
and he voices a question: "Can I buy drinks from thee?"
I answer affirmative, give him a pop
and take his proffer, not bothering to stop.
Then a tap on the shoulder! Annoyance does flare!
The customer's giving yours truly a glare!
"This pop isn't cold!" He says with a frown.
And the bottle was open. I smirk at the clown.
"I just came from the stockroom. What did you expect?
If you're thinking I won't refund you, you're correct.
You opened the bottle, I can't sell it now.
such an action, my boss just wouldn't allow."
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks turned to roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a flower
like the ass of a puppy just ate something sour.
He was angry and peeved, a right grumpy old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A narrow of eye and a twist of his neck
gave me first hand impressions I was in for some heck.
He threatened to charge me with theft, citing laws.
I pocket the money and reveal my jaws.
"Just try it." I say, moving past him with speed,
Ignoring his assertions of corruption and greed.
He sprang to my heels, and his voice turned to pleading
For the change for the bus he exclaimed he'll be needing
But I stood my ground hard and refused his request
and my temper was possibly thinning, at best.
So after a while, much to his chagrin,
the customer decided that he would give in.
But I heard him exclaim, his voice full of ire,
"Happy Christmas you bastard! May you die in a fire!"
Comment