peter.alan.herbert

‘Twas the night before the night before Christmas, when under the house
Something was stirring, probably that damn mouse.
The traps were set by the pantry with care,
In hopes that the cereal-eating, cupboard-shitting bastard would soon be there.

The mouse was all nestled, smug in his bed,
While trails of little crumbs leading to the traps I spread.
With the mouse in his ‘kerchief nest, and I in my cap,
I could not wait to hear that sweet sound go snap!

When down in the kitchen there arose such a clatter
I was already up because of my small, weak bladder.
Away from the toilet I flew like a flash,
My pee-pee sprinkling on the ground with a splash.

The mouse eating the best of the new-fallen dough,
I was face-to-face with my life’s biggest foe,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
A healthy mouse and a sprung trap resting safely at his rear.

Like an Olympic diver, jumping off the counter so quick,
I knew in a moment this was the mouse they call Mick.
More rapid than something that’s really rapid, under my feet he came,
And I cursed and I shouted ‘cause, in chase, my toe stubbed the doorframe:

I dashed! I danced!
Now, I pranced, and I’m vexed!
“Oh Dammit! I’m stupid!
It’s on fire and bleeden’!”
To the bone went the scorch
I fell to a crawl.
“Now Damn today! Damn Today!
Damn today all!”

My dry heaves came after the wild toe-stubbed cry
When Mick met my face, and I swear waved goodbye.
So under the fridge-bottom the bastard flew
With a belly full of crumbs, and my dignity too!

And then, with an inkling, I felt on my back
The prancing and pawing of a mouse foot’s smack
As I drew in my breath and was turning around,
Down my spine Mick ran to the ground.

He was covered in fur, from his head to his toes,
And his coat was tarnished with dust and only God knows.
A bundle of terds he flung at my face,
He looked like a juggler with beauty and grace.

His eyes—how they beaded! His dimples, how scary!
His cheeks were like pockets, his nose was all hairy!
His full little mouth twitched to and fro
And the hair on his tail was as black as the crow
The fate of my life he held tight in his teeth,
My heart beat fast and his faster beneath.
He had an evil face and a little round belly
That shook rapidly and softly, but still scary, ‘n when he laughed, my bowels turned to jelly.

He was a chubby ol’ grump, taking rest on my shelf,
And I cried when I saw him, despite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a crook of his head
Soon gave my heart the true meaning of dread.

He chewed through the cereal bag and went straight to work,
And filling his stomach, he turned with a smirk.
And wiping the tears and snot away from my nose,
Off the kitchen floor I slowly rose.

I sprang to my feet, found a weapon, and let out a whistle,
And away the Bible flew like a tomahawk missile.
I heard a small squeak where I ended my plight.

“Merry Christmas to all, because not even a mouse will stir tomorrow night!”

–peter.alan.herbert (12.7.06)