(With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
The computer was off and the wireless mouse.
The stockings were hung under skylights with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were hidden under their beds,
Texting their friends, conversing in threads.
And Mom in her flip-flops, and I with my frappe,
Had just hunkered down with all the gift wrap.
When out on the driveway there arose such a clatter,
We used the security cam to see what was the matter.
Around the perimeter we panned using flash,
And saw in the pool no sign of a splash.
The LEDs on the pavers gave such a glow,
It was a quality install, done by a pro.
And then what we saw made us shout a small cheer,
It was a reefer* (i.e., refrigerator) truck full of kegs of cold beer.
The helper was shouting, “Come out, and be quick,"
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
He climbed in and unloaded eight kegs as we came,
And he whistled and shouted and called out their name:
"Miller and Busch, Budweiser, and Molson!
"Get the Amstel and Yuengling, Corona and Heineken!
"Carry them to the deck and over the wall!
"Away I must go, on to the next call!"
They swerved and they skidded as they shifted into high,
And they missed the garage as we let out a great sigh.
And out by the pool we had all the brew,
That the driver delivered—St. Nicholas, too.
And then in a moment we saw on the roof,
A reflection in the flashing—of course, it’s rustproof.
As we ran in the house and heard the surround sound,
Down from the roof fell St. Nick to the ground.
He was dressed all in camo, from his head to his foot,
And his iPhone was broken, it was very hard put.
A set of keys he pulled from his backpack,
On a key fob with logo, all colored black.
He was smiling and laughing, but a little bit scary,
We smiled and we shouted, but still somewhat wary.
He reached into that pack, drew something out slow,
It was a 30-page contract the he said he must show.
He needed a pen, to make the bequeath,
He saw that we had one, stuck in our wreath.
He had a red face and a sizeable beer belly,
It was clear that he often ate at the deli.
He said it was custom, not off the shelf,
Then I saw the Ferrari, a gift to myself.
He put on his glasses and nodded his head,
And told me the payments were nothing to dread.
After signing the contract, he finished his work,
And left me to grin at my wife with a smirk.
He told me to wash it, with my non-kinking hose,
And as he went out, we had no more woes.
He jumped on his bike, a Harley with gristle,
And went off down the road like a large guided missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as he roared out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
... And don’t forget to make the first payment next month."
*There had to be some reference to HVACR technology in this!