'Twas a Florida Christmas (Version 1) - Glenn Danforth's Humor Factory



'Twas a Florida Christmas (Version 1) By Glenn Danforth Previously published in The Capsule © Copyright 1995 Glenn Danforth - All rights reserved

Humor Menu Main Page Saturdays At The Swamp Columns: Gators-Seminoles Virus Warning Mother-In-Law Hell Alien Pregnancy Peas & Parenthood Bambino's Curse Florida Christmas 1 Florida Christmas 2 Does it go with Fish? Horoscope for the Reality Impaired: Horoscope 1 Horoscope 2 Horoscope 3 Horoscope 4 Horoscope 5 Horoscope 6 Horoscope 7 Quizzes: Fightin' Irish Ready for College? Roommate Wanted Sexual Knowledge Video: Horoscope 1 Funny Photos: Kids My Strange Pals Animals Demon Alcohol Sexy Stuff Miscellaneous: Cartoon Collection Who is Responsible?	Since moving to Florida in 1990 I’ve tried to adjust to the area’s unique Christmas traditions. I think I have finally become acclimated. I’ve decorated the palm tree, have a 12-pound turkey waiting to be barbecued on the gas grill, and have been selected to be a judge at the annual Christmas bikini contest. Christmas is around the corner and you can see the excitement in the eyes of the children. They know it’s only a couple of weeks before Santa waxes his board and catches that 10-foot wave, surfing his way into town on Christmas eve. The children, their excitement making it difficult to sleep, will bound out of bed early Christmas afternoon, and after a nourishing, leisurely brunch, will carefully open their presents. (Being sure to put the wrapping paper and bows into the correct recycling bins.)
	The presents will be those traditional gifts, so appropriate for the coming winter months: sun screen in varying SPF numbers, a case of Sex Wax, a gift certificate to have their favorite tennis racket re-strung, and the traditional Walkman and in-line skates. But, before all the merriment of Christmas afternoon, and the traditional gator-tail dinner, there is the tradition of Christmas Eve. Everywhere in Brevard County (Cape Canaveral, Cocoa Beach, Melbourne, etc.) parents will gather the children around the air conditioning duct, a glass of ice tea in hand, to read the classic poem, 'Twas a Florida Christmas:	Locals wearing traditional Christmas garb enjoy a stroll by the Cocoa Beach Pier.
	'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Brevard, The natives were swimming or mowing the yard; The charcoal was piled by the hibachi with care, In hopes that half keg soon would be there; The children were nestled in our Jacuzzi, As the vodka began to make me feel woozy; And mamma in her bikini, and I in my thong, Realized a diet could do us no wrong; When on the front lawn there arose such a clatter, I crawled off the hammock to see what was the matter; Our friends had arrived, dressed for the pool party, Arms filled with gifts, and a case of Bacardi; The moon on the breasts of my wife’s best friend Ann, Made me thankful for my pool, and that I’m a man; When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a mini van packed with tourists so queer; With a little old driver, so obnoxious and mad, I knew in a moment his directions were bad; More rapid than eagles his curses they came, And he spit, and shouted, and called me weird names; "You Dasher! You Dancer! You Prancer! You Vixen! You Comet! You Cupid! You Donder and Blitzen!" Directions I offered, before he got hotter, "Head east," I informed him, "and ignore the water." As the van-full of tourists drove off to their death, Uncle Bill filled the air with his putrid breath; "Gather ‘round children," he said with such glee, "The real Santy Claus ain’t got nothin’ on me"; And then, in a twinkling, he climbed on the roof, Drunk once again, and acting the goof; As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down the chimney he came with barely a sound; He stood semi-naked from his head to his foot, Wearing only his stockings and ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack; His eyes, they were crossed, his gait was unsteady, He smelled of cheap whisky, his nose like a cherry! The children were ushered outside with much speed, As we filled him with coffee, so much did he need; We knew it was Christmas, 'twas the same scene each year, Uncle Bill would get faced, and fall on his rear; He had a small head and a humungous belly, That shook when he laughed like an ocean of jelly; The weight of a rhino, the height of an elf, I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave us to know we had something to dread; He fell off the sofa and went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then called me a jerk; I grabbed for his car keys, and called him a cab, He tried to nail me, but missed with his jab; The taxi came quick, it seemed like a week, And away Billy drove, barely able to speak; But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas Brevard! Hey, can I drink on this flight?"