The Day After Christmas
T’was the day after Christmas, and all through the house, every creature was hurtin; even the mouse. The toys were all broken, tbeir batteries dead; Santa passed out with ice on his head.
Wrappings and ribbons just covered the floor. While upstairs the family continued to snore. And I in my t’shirt, new Reeboks and jeans, went into the kitchen and started to clean.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang fom the sink to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the curtains and threw up the sash.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a truck, with an oversized mirror. The driver was smiling, so grand. The patch on his jacket said “U. S. POSTMAN.”
With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox. Then stuffed them quickly into our mailbox. Bill after bill, they still come whistlng and shouting he called them by name.
“Now Dillards, now Broadway, now Penny’s and Sears. Here’s Robinson’s, Levitz, Target, and Marvyn’s. To the tip of your limit every store, every mall. Now charge away- charge away- charge away all!”
He whoopped and he whistled as he he finished his work. He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk. He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road, driving much faster with just half a load.
Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer, “Enjoy what you got… you’ll be paying all year!”