Twas the night before Christmas and all the creatures of the Parkdale Hostellerie were stirring, even the vagabond mouse named Vinny who doesn’t pay rent.
They didn’t have stockings but the tablecloth was festive.
They also had a nice strobe light and their Bluetooth speakers kept the music loud.
Susan tried to remain snug in her beds while visions of sugar-plums danced in her head. She held her ‘kerchief (ie. baby blanket)
She laid there like a grumpy lump of coal at the bottom of a stocking.
Meanwhile, the common room was full of chatter:
“Where is everyone?”
“Waiting for the turkey.”
“Where’s the turkey?”
“At the other apartment.”
“I don’t know.”
“I texted her.”
“Where is she?”
There was a lot of clatter and Susan had to see what was the matter.
By the time she sauntered into the common room,
The table was set,
The guests were hovering around the table,
The wine was opened,
And the turkey had arrived.
On, Sally Ann!
On, Susan!” exclaimed Lara.
“Bring me a knife!
Bring me a fork!
I’ll carve this turkey
And we’ll all eat Like a bunch of oinky-oink porks.”
The Christmas party flocked to the dinner table.
Some pranced, some pawed,
But most “awww’d.”
They ate until they were sick and then they ate some more.
After talking and dancing and dishes and desserts,
After politics and movies and travel and tea,
After gifts and ornaments and mugs and hugs,
After selfies and ping pong and card games and tea,
They all went to bed,
Some as lovers
And some as friends,
Some in a bed
And others on the couch,
No matter who they were,
Where they were from,
They celebrated Christmas together
And in the early morning hours when the dishes were done and the leftovers were aside, Susan toasted herself like a cheesy Coke commercial,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”