have you written your letter to santa yet?
I have been a good boy.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Ralphie's Office party. It was Kip who spiked the punch with too much protein shake. I can't help it if I drank 122658 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like fart.
I thought it was funny when I put sammie's panties on my head and danced the bugaloo on the toilet while singing `Come all ye faithful'. I didn't mean to break Ralphie's vibrator and don't know why Ralphie would accuse me of beastiality.
I don't remember calling Jodie's wife a small ostrich---even though she looked like one with hot pink eye shadow and puce lipstick!
And when I threw up on Ethel's husband's ear, it was only because I ate too much of that peanut butter.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my rollerskates through my neighbor's floor. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a ginormous shrew and have me arrested for jaywalking!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all haglike and surly. And I'm really not to blame for any of this dour stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and vastly yours,
ManicLion (Really a nice boy!)
P.S. It's only 54-46 bucks!
Coarse edged youth, the irish pendants string from their smiles
not yet plucked as to slacken the seams
and drag down the features of age,
no folds or creases from unkempt wear
eyes of tranquilty, crystalline-beads
no sign of despair in their hair, nor their hearts
but oh they have yet to be experienced and that makes aging so very worth it...ML circa2012