The Blogfather

'Twas the Night AFTER Christmas

Twas the night AFTER Christmas and all through Cape Cod,
The natives were friendly - that's exceedingly odd.
No stockings were hung anywhere with great care,
'Cause Cape women don't wear 'em, just long underwear.

The children were texting and playing with their Wiis,
So long we were worried that their noses might freeze.
And me in my Snuggie and Pat in her cap,
Were cuddled alone as she crawled on my lap.

When a noise in the drive make me check what it was,
In case of a visit from our friendly, local fuzz.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw out my "stash"

The moon was the hue of a old, seasick lizard,
Which one might expect 'cause we just had a blizzard.
When, what to my baggy, old eyes should appear,
But a drunken next door neighbor stumbling home with a beer.

Which just goes to show in this holiday confusion.
A wise man shouldn't jump to an erroneous conclusion.
And my New Year's Resolution concerning this bloggerel,
Is a promise to lay off any more of this doggerel.Mr. Ed was written by Walter R. Brooks, not a relative.
Zaftig means a woman having a full rounded figure, pleasingly plump.

This (on right) is what a Ned Sonntag dream girl looks like - click on her cute little belly button.