THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, 1993 T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the hou

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THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, 1993 T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring - not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, which explains why our legs were uncomfortably bare. The children were snuggled asleep in their beds... with MTV earphones attached to their heads. And Ma in her nightgown, and I in my shorts, had just started watching the CNN sports. When out on the lawn there arose such a flurry, I called 911 and asked them to hurry. Away to the window I flew like a flash - then bolted in closed, and hid all our cash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the lustre of midday to objects below. And what did my wandering eyes spot just then? A luxury bus, filled with fat Congressmen... with a big, chubby driver in clothes that looked silly. So I knew right away that it must be Slick Willy. Much faster than locusts his programs they came, and he laughed and he shouted and called them by name. "Here's NAFTA, here's Welfare, here's Health Care for all, here's taxes, more taxes, and fines if you stall." Then shifting the bus into one of its gears, he flew to the roof amid Congressmen's cheers. And now in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each lawmaker's hoof. There was laughter and shouting as I gazed at the stars, and the once clear night air now reeked of cigars. Still, thinking us safe, I was turning around when down the chimney he came with a bound. He was dressed in velour from his head to his foot, and his Nike's were tarnished and covered with soot. An empty cloth sack he had flung on his back, and he looked like a burglar just opening his pack. His eyes - how they twinkled, his dimples - how merry; his smile like a lion that's cornered its quarry. His cheeks were so full, like a squirrel storing nuts, his hair was so perfect, like it just had been cut. His droll little mouth was drawn up in a bow, in his hand was a saxaphone, ready to blow. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly ol' boy, but he didn't seem anxious to leave us a toy. He said not a word, but turned with a jerk, and started collecting the fruits of our work. Our silver, our savings, our paychecks he took; our jobs and security both got the hook. He filled up that sack with all he could carry, then smiled as he said "May your Christmas be merry." Then placing his finger inside of his nose, and giving a nod - up the chimney he rose. He sprang to the bus, to his boys gave a whistle, and away they all flew like a Tomahawk missile. But I heard him exclaim, as my wife can attest - "When we pass Rodham's Health Care, we'll be back for the rest." >< via Borderline! uucp<->Fido{ftn}gate Project * Origin: Borderline! / ZyXEL @ 19.2 / 818/893-1899 (1:102/825)

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