Somewhere in the world, it's still Tuesday.
Greetings to one and all. Before I begin, let me express my profound sadness for the actions at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Conn., last Friday. The actions of the shooter are absolutely disgusting. The mere thought that anyone would do such a terrible, heinous crime - and to children, nonetheless. My heart goes out to the victims' families and all those that have been affected by the horrible tragedy and I hope that President Obama and government leaders across the country will be able to correct, impede, and prevent any future acts of domestic terror.
On we go.
'Twas the week before Christmas and what could this be,
but the rhyming edition of SotT?
So strap on your snow boots and zip up your sweater
for the latest installment of my weekly Newsletter.
You like it, you love it, you've all got to read it -
if you stay 'til the end, I will know I succeeded.
'Tis today that I showcase my amateur poet.
Is it hard? Will I do it? Woo-woo-woo! You know it.
Upon my couch was where I sat
in my football jersey and baseball hat.
Another day, another dime,
another blog I wrote in rhyme.
There I was by myself. I was all alone.
And I wondered why I had worn so much cologne.
All of the sudden, the doorbell rang thrice -
Perhaps it was good I was smelling so nice.
I smoothed out my shirt and I spiked up my hair
and I made for the entry to see who was there.
I knew who had come as I went to the door,
but I looked through the peep hole just to make sure.
Of course! Through the door rushed Donny! Craig T.!
And a third guest celebrity - who could it be?
A man tall and handsome and fast with a quip.
I immediately knew him at the sight of his whip.
My pulse, did it quicken? My heart, did it flutter?
My man-crush was here and I started to stutter.
Donny and Craig? They come here all the time
But with this man's mere presence, I forgot how to say stuff that ends similarly to other words.
My life was complete, my gosh. Heaven's sakes.
I rushed back to to sofa to hide all my snakes.
Fedora and pistol, those glimmering stones.
The man set before me was Indiana Jones!
I offered them seats on the comfy old couch.
I sat down beside them and tried not to slouch.
I tried to make nice - small talk and all -
and I asked what they'd done in the previous Fall.
Craig T. had acted, I rode my scooty.
Donny had sung, and Indy kicked booty.
We sat there enjoying a long winter's chat.
We went in the backyard and shot at a cat.
Did they all want drinks? Perhaps some egg nog?
I asked that great guy who was named for his dog.
He wanted some water and Craig some iced Coke.
Donny, a beer. (J/K, that's a joke.)
I sat them back down and I poured them a beverage.
They thought I was nice, but I knew it was leverage.
I'd soften them up and I'd impose my will -
Make them all go outside for a Christmastime thrill.
So when they had drunk (and not in THAT way),
we all went outside and we hopped in my sleigh.
By sleigh, I mean chariot. Chariot, car.
We then drove around from the near to the far.
In typical fashion, we cranked up some tunes
and we threw around money like a bunch of tycoons.
But being as rich as the three of them were,
I demanded some tips for being chauffeur.
Once we'd all sped around and had all our fun,
we headed back home because we were done.
Exhausted and spent, we plopped ourselves down.
What once shown as smiles soon all turned to frown.
Why did we all feel so empty inside?
We were rich, we were cool, we had nothing to hide.
What was the problem with our manner of living?
Oh yes, that was it. It's the season for giving!
We brainstormed a plan for a second or two.
Just one moment later, we knew what to do.
We pooled all our money and set out from the doors.
We were all going shopping at department stores!
In a matter of minutes we stopped at the mall
with intent to buy presents for one and for all.
Craig T. sent us out. We would split up in pairs,
heading left, heading right, heading up and downstairs.
So Donny and Craig started out on the right
and Indy was with me the rest of the night.
For hours, my friend and I scavenged those shops.
We kissed ugly babies and avoided the cops.
Craig T. and Donny looked out for good deals
and wherever they went they were followed by squeals -
of girls, of course, asking them for a pic.
They had so many fans I got lit'rally sick.
Indy and I went our own separate way.
We needed lots of good stuff by the end of the day.
As we got to the fountain, tossed a coin for luck.
I was pondering wishes. Indy told me to duck.
At his word, I bent down, avoiding a punch
by some big, burly guy who just ended his lunch.
That was so weird! I had not picked a fight.
They'd messed with the wrong guys on that cold winter's night.
A fist fight broke out betwixt Indy and guy.
I got punched in the arm and I started to cry.
Before we all knew it, a whole crowd had joined in.
It was 50 on two and we needed to win.
Indy was quick with his whip and his fist.
I could tell that the bad guy was sure getting upset.
I did all I knew how as some thug pulled my hair -
I lashed out with my skills and bashed him with a chair.
Over at Macy's, Craig T and Donny O
had a bag full of gifts, but a bunch more to go.
They were checking their list - oh yes, checking it twice
to get presents for children, both naughty and nice.
After all, with their cash it was easy to do.
Plus, they're two of the nicest guys that I knew.
They got a few more gifts and met the cashier.
In the safety of Macy's there was nothing to fear.
The chair took a toll, but he still tried to grab.
I flipped him around and applied Boston Crab.
A few feet away, Mr. Jones stood his ground.
He was quite the fighter if you looked pound-for-pound.
I watched him in awe, I had dreamed of this day
when I could fight hand in hand with him just feet away.
We continued to fend them off, man after man.
In the words of "The District," we opened a Can.
Now, back in the shops, the others were done.
They returned to the plaza and joined in on the fun.
In fairness, Craig T was not much of a fighter -
and neither was Donny (considerably lighter).
They set down their bags and hopped into the scrum.
But it didn't last long (Donny thought it was dumb).
Believe it or not, Craig T. landed a shot --
on a mall cop! Oh crap! We had just gotten caught!
It wasn't our fault! We didn't start this!
I dodge some bloke's punch - a swing and a miss.
The mall cop looked angry. His veins they did throb.
He was fighting celebrities, not doing his job!
This was going downhill. "We've got to retreat!"
I grabbed Craig and Indy and got to my feet.
We booked for the entrance, made our getaway.
Thankfully, Donny had warmed up the sleigh.
Craig T. threw all the presents in back (in the trunk)
and we hoped that the fight hadn't ruined that junk.
Defying the speed limit, driving to cover,
I found out that day I'm a fighter, not lover.
Adrenaline rushing, I wanted to scream.
Was everything real or only a dream?
I was calmed down by Craig T. who helped me with zen.
Donny prayed for my patience. We all said "Amen."
I bandaged my wounds and I stopped all the bleeding.
I softly asked Donny if he would stop speeding.
He apologized, slowed down, and said I was true.
We still had a mission we had to see through.
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" cried Craig as he read us his list.
I listened intently and massaged my sore fist.
"And here is the thing," said Indy, so sly.
"A-Town, you'll dress up as that big, jolly guy."
As I took the red suit from my newly-found friend,
we arrived at the place we were destined to end.
Indy and Donny and, of course, Craig T.
all headed inside without little old me.
I supposed it was time to get into disguise
if I wanted to follow through for those guys.
I crept 'round the corner and slipped on the suit.
I can't believe girls don't think that I'm cute. (Kidding, Mom. They do.)
After donning my cap and adjusting my belt,
I can't clearly express the excitement I felt.
I took a deep breath and I gathered my thoughts.
I was now Santa Claus for some unknowing tots.
Jingling, jangling, making such noise,
I danced my way inside with a bag full of toys.
This was better than fighting - spreading the yule
to the children attending that elementary school.
My friends had me sit on a large, padded throne.
Kids ripped off my fake beard. My cover was blown.
To the laughter of many, I was clearly not Santa,
but for all that they knew, "A-Town" was Atlanta.
They didn't know me, but they didn't care
as they told me their wishes when they sat on my chair.
After every child grinned from ear unto ear,
I shouted the phrase that they all longed to hear:
"It's time for your presents!" I yelled to the group.
Then I bowed with my awesome celebrity troupe.
The joy was contagious as they ripped away boxes.
We had done a good job, like a bunch of sly foxes.
But one gift confused me. Had to take a good look.
Indy had given an algebra book.
"It's fine," he explained. "It will be such a pleasure!
"For, you know," he continued. "That knowledge is treasure."
So our Christmas, at long last, was centered on giving.
It was on that one day that I knew I was living.
The kids had gone home. We had ended our caper.
That mall brawl was worth the front page in the paper.
Bye Donny and Craig T. Bye Indy, my friend.
This story, quite sadly, must come to an end.
I will miss that adventure but I knew there are more.
'Cause we Moved It, Sold It, and Left Open the Door.
That's about it for this week. Wow, that took forever to write. Hope it wasn't a total waste of your time. On behalf of me and everyone here at "Signs of the Times," enjoy our 2012 Christmas card. Display it proudly for all to see. Make sure you take a second to vote for the top Signs of the Times for the past 12 months on the blog poll! Next year is the Year in Review Issue! You won't want to miss it. MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Until next Time,
Move It. Sell It. And Leave the Door Open.
Aaron
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