The Nutrition Before Christmas

This is a basic thing I wrote, based on The Night Before Christmas, but based on my blog!

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a cook was cooking, not even in the bakehouse;
The cookies were placed on the mantle with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of soda pop danced in their heads;
And mamma in her PJ’s, and I in my bed,
Had just settled down, blankets up to my head,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Afraid the world outside was burning to ash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rock band playing, and fans drinking cheap beer,

With a little old DJ, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be a prick.
With words of encouragement, piercing the night,
This wack job was encouraging people to engage in a fight!

“Now, DASH’EM! now, MOSH’EM! now, PUNISH and SMASH!
Let’s smash some heads together!  Let’s have a big brawl!
Now dash away! Clash away! Go kill ’em all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
The fans charged toward each other, willing to die,
Moshed in the middle, bellies full of cheap brew,
I closed up my window, unsure what to do.

And then,with some swearing, I heard on the roof
The stomping and pounding of a big goof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney some smart-ass punk came with a bound.

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,
Like his clothes were all covered with ashes and soot;
A bundle of food he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a weirdo with a rather large snack.

His eyes — how they twinkled! his jaw line how hairy!
His manners were poor, his was quite scary!
His big fuckin’ mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Why his face had a grimace, I do not know;

Staring at the mantle, he gritted his teeth,
And pulled out a plate of greens, like a wreath;
He had a thin face and a love of rock,
He was straight and narrow, like a celery stalk.

He plugged in some tunes, and turned it all the way up
And poured some Oregon beer in his favorite cup
Blasting some Rammstein, he began to bob his head
I had no idea what this angry German man said;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled the fridge with produce, he is not a jerk!
Just when we thought the fridge couldn’t fit any more,
He flipped me off, and walked out the front door.

He sprang to his car, and cranked up the radio
The engine sprung to life, and I didn’t know where he’d go,
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove like a winner,

By The Nutrition Punk

I am a dietitian living in Portland, Oregon. I write about a variety of nutrition and heath topics, with the goal of improving people's understanding of food and nutrition so they may be empowered against all the misinformation that is out there.

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