To all the FZ fans everywhere!
Here's a little something I whipped out last night, in between the moisture cream and velvet facial lotion, which I'd like to share...
Seasonal Blessings to All!
 
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not me - or my spouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that Carl, or a diploma, soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of watermelons danced in their heads.
And Mama in her "na'kin", and I in my cap,
were hoping to sleep off all the seasonal crap.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and fell flat on my ass.
The moon on the titties of the new-fallen snow
gave the luster of cheepnis to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature band, and all kinds of gear.
With a little old conductor, so ugly and rank,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Frank.
More rapid than eagles, his curses they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Ikie! Now Stevie!
Now, Arthur and Vinnie!
On, Warren! On, Napi!
On, George, Ruth, and Howie!
To the top of the arena!
To the top of the Hall!
We waited all night, but you didn't try to call!"
As vegetables that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the cursers they flew,
with the band full of horns, and Uncle Frank too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the top
the prancing and pawing of the Pachuco Hop.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney Uncle Frank came with a bound.
He was dressed all in purple, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were completed with a pair of python boots.
A bundle of tapes he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a road manager just opening his pack.
His eyes--oh how piercing! His hair cut, how bonkers!
His cheeks were rosettas, his nose was a honker!
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,
and the hair on his chin made just who he was clear.
The stump of a Winston he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a gaunt face and barely any belly,
And with those boots finally off, you knew it'd be smelly.
He was dark and severe, a curmudgeonly old elf,
and I gave him the finger, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his hand
soon showed me how deftly he directed his band.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and finished by mumbling, "Jesus thinks you're a jerk".
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, he struck his famed Collier's pose.
Then he sprang to his bus, that he'd named Phydeaux III,
And away they all flew singing "Absolutely Free".
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere they drove out of sight,
"Thanks for coming to the concert, Boys and Girls - good night!"
 
SOFA


For further Z-related fun, please visit http://www.thebignote.com or http://www.killuglyradio.com , thank you.



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