Ring ting a ting. The bell ringer at the storefront continued with his greetings to the weary shoppers
The worn out souls searching for the gift meeting their kids’ demands, within budget, while trying to digest the lunch of coffee and whoppers
Merely glancing the ringers way the shopper hurried home only to have the garage door remote become a face, vibrate, and speak
“Mr. Smith,” the remote declared. “Tonight you will be visited by three ghosts. One of Christmas past, the present and the future,” causing Mr Smith to dash inside while muffling a shriek
“I must be dreaming,” thought Joe Smith. “Or perhaps it was the red onions in that ground beef”
Joe forgot to say hold the onions as those red onions always gave Joe’s stomach untold grief
“That must be what is was,” sighed Mr Smith while dozing off in his recliner
Glorious dreams ensued while the football game played across his screen as Joe himself scored the winning points as the star Forty-niner
“Mr Smith!” The screen had changed to that face seen on his remote. “You will now be visited by the ghost of Christmas past”
Then a spirit appeared dressed in his grandma’s attire though granny had long since breathed her last
The kindly voice called him by his childhood name. “Joey,” she called. “Come with me and let’s visit your home from your boyhood years”
Suddenly it was 1985 and there was Joey looking bewildered as He-Man action figure wasn’t under the tree and Joey was close to tears
“Joey please remember that since daddy left your mama she isn’t able to give everyone the presents they want, so everyone has to share”
“But grandma this is the worst Christmas ever. No daddy. No He-Man, and I don’t want to play with the baby’s teddy bear”
“Someday you’ll understand,” said the kindly vision. “Parents do all they can even when they realize it’s not enough”
Joey then realized that his mother had been working two jobs to make ends meet and without much sleep the stress was taking its toll as she was beginning to look rough
But before Joe could tell his mother how much he loved her she was gone and Joe was whisked to Christmas present
The new vision was not the kindly grandma from the past. This one had the same persona of his much despised manager. The same attitude, coffee breath, and shabby tie of the man whose underlings he loved to torment
The same guy who promoted the low IQ woman whose job expertise was letting him look down her blouse
He was extra nice to her but to all others was a scheming back-stabbing louse
“Did you finish those reports Mr Smith? You know I need them on my desk before you go home”
And seeing how he just dropped them in front of Joe an hour ago, it occurred to Joe that he wanted to yank out those six hairs plastered to his shiny dome
“You know your Christmas bonus might just depend on you finishing those reports”
The bonus once again being a three pound ham and a donation in Joe’s name to a charity the boss supports
Mr Smith had been grinding away at the same job for twenty-eight years as the ghost pointed out
And Christmas’s were always the worst. Money was tight, work schedules were demanding, but ol’ reliable Smith was always there to kick about
But before he had time to vent his frustrations to the current ghost, he was bundled away to future Christmases that would come his way
A new ghost appeared. This one called himself Mohamad and wasn’t on a sleigh
Instead, he rode a carpet of woven wool accompanied by his third child bride
It seems Christmas had been abolished. Congress had imploded into the great political divide
The far east had appointed themselves as leaders, now commanded all citizens and therefore rejected all things once celebrated by the west
They killed all the dogs, forced women to hide behind their garments and hung anyone daring to protest
This time there was no Mr Scrooge to see the light, no living happily ever after, or seeing the wonderment in a child’s eyes
Just a strictly regimented life, whose control was someone elses’ and the drudgery of a controlled daily life everyone despises
An Observer of Life in Bad Poetry 