Twas The Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring not even a mouse. And well they should have been that night for the cats were well occupied.
The call came early that morn not even Christmas eve yet but rather Christmas morn. Fire! Was all that need be said, With no more than that he leapt out of bed. Not a cap was he wearing not even a stitch but he ran for the door crying “son of a …..!”.
Out side of the window he saw such a sight. Flames rose from the car alighting the night. The cat car was burning he saw to his fright. Fire shot in the air in such a horrible way, soon its neighbor the shed must in embers lay. The dark of the night so terribly cold made what came next a sight to behold. The hoses they froze they kinked and they broke, until a bucket was found the shed for to soak.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a great yellow payloader its bucket in the air. With a little old driver so solid and staid. I knew that finally he had come to our aid. With bucket he dove right into the flame. I could not help but admire the aim. Flames and all he lifted the car; he drove through the fence but he didn’t go far. Into the wheat field he drove in the night-payloader, shed and people still bathed in the light. Setting it down he backed slowly away little flames in the bucket still licking the hay.
Call the fire department and tell them we are done. Oh but wait it’s them here they come. They were dressed all in canvas from their head to their foot. And all their clothes were tarnished with ashes and soot. Their hoses were slung all over their backs they did not freeze, kink or crack.
They sprayed down the shed now charred black and cindered. They sprayed down the car though the tires they rekindled. The car mostly extinguished In ruins there lay. The cats no longer have a place to stay. Oh what a sad sad Christmas day.
No longer basking under the heat lamp would they lay.
That was such a sad Christmas morning The cats lay all in a heap deep in mourning. He looked at the sight of the cats filled with dread he knew his wife would allow no peace for his head, until he found the cats a nice new winter bed.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work. He started his payloader and hefted it with a jerk. Laying a finger aside of his nose, he pulled a lever and the Cadillac rose.
He drove to the yard and there set it down, Right on top of last nights freshly charred ground. It was a car fit for a cat, for Christmas they got a light blue Cadillac.
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.