Go figure. It's the night before Christmas eve and I want to kill someone. Let me set up the story. Ironically, I'm going poetic only because its so close to Christmas and people are showing their true nature.
It was the night before Christmas eve, And all through the house
All the creatures were stirring, Including my mouse.
All the stockings were hung by the entertainment center with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
I was snuggled into my chair
While blinking windows flashed brightly on my computer screen
Me in my pj's, with my cat sleeping in my lap,
Had just settled down for a long internet chat.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Pushed open the shutters and pulled up the blinds.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and two tiny reindeer,
The only problem with this concept, I thought to myself.
Santa and the sleigh (of the blow-up variety), were now laying flat,
And next to the forlorned balloon, our Christmas tree and two snowmen on their sides.
I went to the grandparents, talking in their room,
Only to find, the second Santa was down.
Grandpa had found a cell phone out on the ground, and was getting ready to call in the cops
Outside we wait for the Sheriff to show, only to find that the punks wanted their phone.
It rang, and rang, and rang some more. I guess they were searching for it in all the places they'd been.
Alright. I give up on the poem version. To make a long story short.
They called a bunch of times. I got pissed off because Grandpa wouldn't let me even see the phone, 'I'll get my prints on the phone'. We stood outside and waited for a while, checking the rest of the decorations just to make sure that they hadn't screwed them up to. The Sheriff showed up, I showed him the damaged balloon. They had ripped a huge hole into the side of the balloon, it cost about $70 and now can't find any more like it. Grandpa gave him the cell phone saying he was sorry he touched it and gotten his prints on it. Guess what they Sheriff said? It didn't matter, they wouldn't take prints from it. I could have pulled off the number and traced it back to a name and address before the Sheriff even bothered. He stood there calling a bunch of numbers off the phone, getting whatever info he could from the people. All I caught was a first name, Anthony. He left saying that he would probably make an arrest. How come I doubt that?
It was the night before Christmas eve, And all through the house
All the creatures were stirring, Including my mouse.
All the stockings were hung by the entertainment center with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
I was snuggled into my chair
While blinking windows flashed brightly on my computer screen
Me in my pj's, with my cat sleeping in my lap,
Had just settled down for a long internet chat.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Pushed open the shutters and pulled up the blinds.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and two tiny reindeer,
The only problem with this concept, I thought to myself.
Santa and the sleigh (of the blow-up variety), were now laying flat,
And next to the forlorned balloon, our Christmas tree and two snowmen on their sides.
I went to the grandparents, talking in their room,
Only to find, the second Santa was down.
Grandpa had found a cell phone out on the ground, and was getting ready to call in the cops
Outside we wait for the Sheriff to show, only to find that the punks wanted their phone.
It rang, and rang, and rang some more. I guess they were searching for it in all the places they'd been.
Alright. I give up on the poem version. To make a long story short.
They called a bunch of times. I got pissed off because Grandpa wouldn't let me even see the phone, 'I'll get my prints on the phone'. We stood outside and waited for a while, checking the rest of the decorations just to make sure that they hadn't screwed them up to. The Sheriff showed up, I showed him the damaged balloon. They had ripped a huge hole into the side of the balloon, it cost about $70 and now can't find any more like it. Grandpa gave him the cell phone saying he was sorry he touched it and gotten his prints on it. Guess what they Sheriff said? It didn't matter, they wouldn't take prints from it. I could have pulled off the number and traced it back to a name and address before the Sheriff even bothered. He stood there calling a bunch of numbers off the phone, getting whatever info he could from the people. All I caught was a first name, Anthony. He left saying that he would probably make an arrest. How come I doubt that?
