Wednesday, December 15, 2004



‘Twas right before Christmas, and down by the mall,
Not a creature was stirring, except for them all.
The traffic was bad, we were told to prepare,
But the shopping wasn’t finished, so we didn’t care.

The cars were all nestled on road up ahead,
While visions of Sig-Alerts danced in my head.
The Mrs. was my passenger, so I gave her a smile,
Who knew it would take two hours to go half a mile?

When out on the road there arose such a clatter,
I looked over the dash to see what was the matter.
Down came the window, just like a flash,
I saw a taxi driver who just got whiplash.

The sun on his taxi made his blood boil red,
So he gave a long honk to the car just ahead.
When what to my wondering eyes would I see?
An old run-down mini van with a brand new Christmas tree.

With a little old driver, so lively and mad,
I knew in a moment, this was going to get bad.
More rapid than eagles, to the taxi he came,
And he whistled and shouted and called out these names:

You prick! You asshole!
You big piece of shit!
You cunt! You fucker!
You old saggy tit!
From the top of your head!
To the tips of your toes!
I’ll kick your ass! I’ll kick your ass!
I’ll punch you in your nose!

The cabbie yelled back; he couldn’t be shy.
And from under her breath, my wife said, “Oh my!”
So right in front of us, the obscenities flew,
in the presence of everyone, and a Christmas tree too.

And then in a twinkling, I watched as he stood,
the prancing and pawing of his fist on the hood.
As for why this was happening, I was at a loss.
Then he reached through the window with a forceful right cross.

The cabdriver ducked and he bobbed and he weaved,
And the man with the Christmas tree just got more peeved.
He flung open the door and jumped into the cab.
Let the fighting begin; who threw that right jab?

The taxi—how it trembled! The suspension, how scary!
They fought with ferocity, and their forearms were hairy.
Their droll little fight was drawing up like a bow,
but then they continued, like wrestlers gone pro.
I got out of my car, and another man, too.
We just looked at each other… Well, what should we do?
You might think me a coward, or a real yellow-belly,
but the car shook and it shook, like bowl full of jelly.

As quick as it started, it ended, this brawl.
The cabbie was okay, in spite of it all.
The man with the Christmas tree climbed out of the cab,
But then remembered something else that he wanted to grab.

He spoke not a word, but went back to his work,
And reached through the window with a smug little smirk.
Straight from the ignition, he snatched up the keys,
And then threw them away, right into the trees.

He sprang to his mini van with his fresh Christmas tree,
And full of holiday cheer, it was easy to see.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good fight!”

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