A Visit From The Wendigo
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the home,
The smell of cheese salad invaded your nose.
The bags of our garbage were piled up on the curb,
Full of leftovers, raw meat and dessert.
The children were locked up all tight in their rooms,
Beth Sue softly crying, and Russ trolling troons.
And Mama and I, stumbling home from the bar,
Had just settled down to shoot up some tar
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I grabbed my AR to see what was the matter.
I lurched to the window, to flip off the sheriff,
And kick up the standoff I thought was apparent.
The moon on the breast of the junk cars outside,
Gave off too much light for the lawmen to hide,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a shambling figure, with antlers like deer,
And a wide gaping mouth, with juices aflow,
I knew right away, this was the Wendigo!
More rapid than sloths, his scooter it came,
And he called his companions, each one by their name:
“On Zoe! On Bre, I’m dragging in Hope,
Come Junior, come Tammy, and come on in close!”
He was dressed in a tee shirt (“Jesus greater than Earth”)
And his belly stuck out, with ridiculous girth.
His face was so swollen! His lips lolling wide,
And his withering arm hung loose by his side.
His clothes stained with juice, and a bag at his feet,
He pointed to the smoker he left as a treat.
“You can cook all your pulpork, every meat you hold dear,
And still have enough for your chili next year.”
Some packets of freeze-dried beef for my kids,
And my wife got Alibaba knives from “BELSID”.
“This last one’s for you,” the Wendigo slurred,
And gave me some meat that once was a bird.
Its color was pale, the juices ran pink,
And underneath all the butter, I detected a stink.
So the Wendigo coughed, and choked on his spit,
To tell all his family it’s now time to split.
As they dragged him away, he made one last cry,
“I love all you guys, and I’ll see you next time!”
