X-mas Marks the Spot

T'was the morning of Christmas, and all through the flat
One of two was stirring, in pyjamas he sat
Disheveled and sleepy on his cushioned throne
Setting the scene for his first Christmas from home

This festive season was winter, the hemispheres having changed
And the purely decorative fireplace was absent of flame
The windows were frosted, or so he supposed
It was a bit hard to tell with the curtains being closed

The halls were not decked, his toes were not mistled
The floor was not covered in a fine layer of bristles
For the house was absent of gifts, decorations or tree
As these are all things which do not come for free

He had decided – and his bank account agreed –
That this year no presents were to be bought, thus received
The only gift was time, available to spend
Which he did, on the phone to family and friends

But they were all ten hours ahead, their days closing fast
Leaving our young squire as the ghost of their Christmas past
As they spoke to this specter about how their festivities had been
He told what was on the horizon as his yuletide came in

It was a somewhat brief outlook, concise and succinct
Even more uneventful that one could be lead to think
When detailing the plans for his day, as such
They could be covered quite nicely with two words – 'Not much'

Not entirely true, the afternoon held some maybes
The vague promise of roast meat, vegetables and gravy
There was a lunch, which we had been invited to share
With the only curiousity being how exactly we were to get there

The second member of this 'We' was yet to be seen
A mysterious figure by the name of Laureen
With the o'clock rounding two, she had not emerged from bed
Leaving, to be toyed with, the possibility she was dead

Had there been a late-night intruder, not fat, red and jolly
But vengeful, angry and bitter, with murder his folly?
An unpleasant thought, not to be cheered or clapped
But the body bag would mean at least one thing would be wrapped

As he wondered how long to wait before crashing through the door
There came the faint sound of footsteps on the floor
She was arising, or could there be a festive thief?
With no presents to steal, the visit would at least be brief

But open swung a door and Laureen stumbled out
He wished 'Merry Christmas' not in a whisper, nor shout
With greetings and well wishings done, no more to exchange
They returned to the living room fireplace, with its imaginary flames

With lunchtime slowly passing, they had places to be
But there was beginning to be a glaring flaw they could see
A distance needed covering, with no public transport
It seems this plan could have used a little forethought

They sat and the pondered, wondered and mulled
As did the wine as their options were culled
Ideas were scratched, genitals too
And a conclusion was reached – they were screwed

Without car, bus or sleigh, what once was a hunch
Turned into the unfortunate fact that they couldn't make lunch
What to do? Where to go? The plot had started to thicken
Thank God the refrigerator housed an emergency chicken

Christmas plans had changed, been slightly amended
And they'd re-evaluated exactly how they would spend it
It was a retreat to tradition, one that could not lose
With the winning combination of food and booze

So the Christmas was there, now time for the Merry
And what better way to find it than with a bottle of sherry?
The chicken was buttered, both arousing and healthy
And the seasoning of choice for those who aren't wealthy

Laureen did the cooking while he took the drinking
He offered his help but this wasn't sound thinking
For his culinary skills had been rendered quite stale
And they were doomed to starvation if one was to fail

Potatoes were crispy, the mulled wine was heated
It all smelt delicious and it was time to be seated
And to add some civility to this festive fable
They did the unheard of and sat at the table

Clinking their glasses and stuffing their faces
Taking time to forget to say their good graces
Their stomachs now full, but heads getting light
Time now to return to the lounge for the night

Now nicely toasted before the TV set
Watching a series of programs they would quickly forget
They waved to the neighbours living across the road
Who quickly thereafter had their curtains closed

They could have only been jealous from seeing such fun
Such entertaining times in the company of one
Is it so much better surrounded by those that you love?
Well, yes it is, when push comes to shove

But sometimes you make do with all that you've got
If just drink, food and TV, which isn't a lot
Still, it's enough, and no need for hindsight
It was to all a Merry Christmas, and to them a good night