'The night before playoffs'
‘Twas the night before playoffs, and throughout Jimmy’s house, not a person was stirring, not even his spouse. A space had been cleared on the mantel with care, in hopes that a Super Bowl trophy soon would reside there. The executives were nervous all; (most likely on prescription meds), knowing an early playoff exit would likely be akin to “Off with their heads!” With Dee in her kerchief, and Jimmy in his cap, one could not help but wonder if this was some sort of trap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, Jimmy sprung from his La-Z-Boy to see what ‘twas the matter. But soon, in his haste to ID the noise in the snow, he tripped over Dee and down the stairs he did go. When, what to his tear-filled eyes should appear, but Baker in the doorway, doing Jello shots and beer. Overcome by the sight, Jimmy again nearly fell, but gasped a sigh of relief, for no, ‘twasn’t Baker, ‘twas Johnny Manziel!
Though in his own mind, Jimmy felt well-rested, the vision of Manziel had Jimmy thinking “Get concussion-tested.” When suddenly, to Jimmy, it became clear at last: He was being visited by the ghost of seasons passed. Jimmy lunged at the spirit, and slammed into the wall; while Johnny chortled maniacally, “If I laugh any harder, I think I might fall.” And then in a twinkling, Johnny went “poof,” and Jimmy’s head felt as if kicked by a reindeer hoof.
Jimmy rubbed his head, and while turning around, saw Santa tumble down the chimney, making quite a sound. He was dressed in all fur from his head to his boot, and had PETA been there, Santa’s good intentions would have been rendered quite moot.
Santa’s eyes – how they twinkled! And his dimples – how merry. His cheeks were like roses, ‘twas clear he’d found the sherry. He had a round face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed (but he was, frankly, quite smelly).
Yet Jimmy felt they’d connected, and the Browns would do well, though he wasn’t sure why; he just couldn’t tell. Jimmy went to his bed, and told Dee the good news, then promised bonuses to his execs, convinced the Browns couldn’t lose.
With Scrooge-like thoughts, Jimmy stoked fireplace embers, doing the math in his head, projecting income from new loge members. But the joy proved short-lived, as Santa sailed out of sight, proclaiming, “Merry Christmas to all, and the Steelers will win it all tomorrow night!”
Lifelong Westlake resident who dabbles in writing whenever the real world permits. My forte is humor and horror...What a combo!