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Thread: Time for a Little Christmas Story

  1. #1
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    Time for a Little Christmas Story

    I'm pretty sure I've posted this before, but that won't stop me from posting it again. I'll just call it a Christmas Tradition. Now gather 'round kids, and hear my lovely tale...

    ‘Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas. The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

    Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself – thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a miniscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power traveling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen – “Now Dasher, now Dancer . . .” et al. – guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved – with utmost celerity and via a downward leap – entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.

    His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiabily. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the form approximated the coloration of Albion’s floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

    Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

    Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadruped of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: “Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn.”

    When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. - Hunter S. Thompson
    When the weird get going, they start their own forum. - Vaughn McMillan

    workingwoods.com

  2. #2
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    Yup, you're from California

    That's pretty good Vaughn
    Faith, Hope & Charity

  3. #3
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    Hmm! I nead to find the cliff notes for this story.

  4. #4
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    ah man, vaughn started the party without us.

  5. #5
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    Very nice. But either too much eggnog on your part, or not enough on mine.

  6. #6
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    I stole just the last line. My head started to go wonky from reading the whole thing... Who needs EggNog

  7. #7
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    Sorry, I'll have to have my SIL read that one to us...she speaks lawyer speak.
    Darren

    To a small child, the perfect granddad is unafraid of big dogs and fierce storms but absolutely terrified of the word boo. Robert Brault

  8. #8
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    Dude.... what are you smoking out there??? Are you downwind of DEA evidnece destruction fires???
    I will try reading this again after Im really awake.
    Merry Christmas!

  9. #9
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    Quote Originally Posted by michael james View Post
    Dude.... what are you smoking out there???
    I think he's been smoking his running socks!
    Jesus was a Woodworker

  10. #10
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    I can't take credit for writing it. This is a piece of "office humor" my sister collected years ago, back when that sort of thing was passed around via 12th-generation Xerox copies.

    Back in my band days, our bass player had the whole thing memorized, and I knew pretty long parts of it as well. We would recite parts of it when we were doing sound checks and needed to just make some type of noise into the microphone. It was a lot more fun to say "Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration..." instead of "Check! 1 2 3. Testing 1, 2, 3. Check check check...I can't hear the monitors!"
    When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. - Hunter S. Thompson
    When the weird get going, they start their own forum. - Vaughn McMillan

    workingwoods.com

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