Twas the night before Christmas and all through Sin City, not a creature was stirring not even Snoops what a pity.
The fish nets were hung by the wet bar with care, in hopes some special gentleman soon with goodies to share.
The ladies were cuddled all snug in their beds (doesn't that just curl your toes), while visions of high rollers danced in their heads.
The unending merchandising of the holiday with never a gap, has left me near comatose well past a nap.
When outside my apartment there rose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed expecting to see splatter.
I ran to the window and pulled back the curtain, it was quite a site of that I am certain (carolers, forgot my jammies, you get the picture).
The moon shined so brightly and it did glow, illuminating the beauty of the dumpster below.
When what to my bloodshot eyes did appear, but a minature sleigh with eight shapely reindeer???
The old driver was so lively and happy and plump, I knew in a moment it must be Big Poppa Pump (sorry BPP but I needed the rhyme).
They flew straight in as he whistled and shouted, and he called out their names as I drooled and I counted.
Now Brie now Cindy now Angelina now Kellie, on Logan on January on Tia and Mary O'Malley (OK ladies I had to get you in somewhere).
Into the common area and then straight into the pool, splash away splash away splash away all (Those POOR ladies, wet t-shirts on such a chilly night).
Finally he did get them all re-directed, and up to the roof a large stirring detected.
Before I could tell him no chimney to be found, he slid down the tiles and crashed to the ground.
He was dressed all in fur and I barely got him inside, before PETA members beat on his hide.
A big old bag was flung cross his back, and he carefully sidestepped what may be stuffed in that sack.
A true character he was as he smiled and made faces, twas then that I realized he was really Four Aces.
His eyes how they twinkled this jolly old guy, a major surprise he promised with a wink and a sigh.
His mouth was all puckered and unlike tradition he seemed much thinner, then he flipped about and claimed with a shout his name was actually Spinner.
A small corncob pipe was gripped tight in his jaw, then he opened his sack and what splenor I saw.
The beautiful ladies of Vegas one at a time, dressed in virtually nothing oh how sublime.
Each a different color ribbon as they slid under my tree, to be unwrapped this yuletide morning much to my glee.
His task now finished he headed for the door, no motor for his sled but he didn't seem sore.
He danced into the night and soon out of site, but I'm sure I did hear before he did disappear.
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL (including all not mentioned in the prose), AND TO ALL A GOOD NITE
-- Modified on 12/23/2003 10:00:45 PM
