[CH] Traditions

John Benz Fentner, Jr. (johnfentner@home.com)
Fri, 24 Dec 1999 12:29:34 -0500 

'Bout the third year for this (slightly updated):


The Night Before Chilemas
        or
The Mighty Endorphin Power Rangers 


'Twas the night before Chilemas, 
When all through the gardens 
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even the varmints; 

The sweat sox were hung 
By the chimney with care, 
In hopes that El Grande 
Soon would be there; 

The kids watched the Food Channel 
snug in their beds, 
While visions of Hab Jelly 
Danced in their heads; 

And Ma in her apron, 
And I, in my whiskers, 
Had just settled down
For a long winter's Twister. 

When out by the garden 
There arose such a clatter, 
I slid in the garlic oil 
To see what was the matter. 

Away to the window 
I flew like a flash, 
Tripped over the Chili Pot 
And threw up the sash. 

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow 
Gave the lustre of madness to objects below, 
When, what to my watering eyes then appeared, 
But a miniature sleigh, and eight ChileHeads (wierd), 
With a strange little driver, so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment El Grande was slick. 

More rapid than eagles the ChileHeads came, 
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; 
"Now, Mary! now, Mark! now, Judy and Kit! 
On, Gary, Chuck, Suzy and Rael, you twit!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Two more teaspoons of Cayenne! And Home Brew for all!" 

As dry heaves that before Pace Mild Salsa do fly, 
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, 
So up to the house-top the ChileHeads flew, 
With the sleigh full of hot sauce, and El Grande too. 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, 
Chomping, burps, giggling, not the least bit aloof. 
As I reached for the chips, and was turning around, 
Down the chimney El Grande came with a bound. 

He was dressed all in red, from his head to his foot, 
And his clothes were all garnished with barbecue soot; 
A sack from Salsa Express on his back, 
And he looked like a pusher just opening his pack. 

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! 
His forehead was sweating, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth did Chipotle stains show, 
And the beard on his chin covered sauce stains below; 

Crumbs of Burritos were stuck tight in his teeth, 
And smoked jalapenos 'round his head like a wreath; 
He had a broad face and a little round belly, 
That shook, when he laughed like Red Savina (TM) jelly. 

He was chubby and plump, a demented old elf, 
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; 
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, 
Made me run hide the last of Jim Campbell's Bread; 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, 
And filled all the sweat soxs; looked at me like a jerk, 
And laying his finger aside of his nose, 
And snorting some Calvin's, up the chimney he rose; 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. 
But I heard them exclaim, ere they drove out of sight, 
"RING OF FIRE TOMORROW, HAPPY CHILEMAS TONIGHT!" 

(That whirring sound you hear is Clement Clark Moore
spinning in his grave) 


Happy (insert holiday of choice here) and to all a Good
Night!  :)

JB
(secure in the knowledge that Chiles are Y2K compliant)
-- 
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John Benz Fentner, Jr.
Unionville, Connecticut, USA
http://www.geocities.com/~jbenz/
"Lex Non Favet Delicatorum Votis"
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