Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Twas the Night Before Christmas...or was it?

Today we did a Christmas madlib at MOPS. Parts were pretty hilarious...so I decided to share with the blogworld. Here you go!

Twas the Night Before Christmas
Twas the 9am before Hanukkah when all through the White House, not a creature was running not even a camel. The footed pajamas were hung by the chair with care, in hopes that Jack Black soon would be there. The children were fixed all snug in their chase, while visions of dogs danced in there foot. And mama in her sock, and I in my bra, had just settled down for a 42 minute winter's nap. When out on the Mexico there arose such a clatter, I slid from the table to see what was the matter. Away to the closet I flew like a flash, tore open the shutter and threw up the sash. The cat on the breast of the new-fallen hurricane, gave the luster of sunset to objects below. When, what to my pooping eyes should appear, but a miniature Honda pilot and one tiny muskrat. With a bootylicious old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment in must be Jack Black. More dancing than platypus his coursers they came, and he whistled, and farted and called them by name: "Now, Shereece! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! Oh, Shanaenae! Oh, Shenequa! On, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the forie! To the top of the wall! Now hump away! Hump away! Hump away all!" As dry rhododendron that before the wild sunny fly, when they meet with a hat, mount to the sky, so up to the window the coursers they flew, with the jeep full of children, and Jack Black, too. And then in a skiing, I heard on the roof, the flying and pawing of each little hoof - As I drew in my arm, and was turning around, down the chimney Jack Black came with a bound. He was dressed all in handcuffs, from his butt to his foot, and his chickens were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of sombreros he had chopping on his back, and he looked like a shoe just opening his pack. His big toes, how they twinkled! His eyes, how merry! His cheeks were like sunglasses, his nose like a cherry! His beautiful little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the Brandis on his chin was orange as snow. The stump of his chair he held tight in his teeth, and the cup, it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a giant face and a little purple belly, that drove when he laughed, like a goblet full of jelly. He was large and plump, a right sad old elf, and I skipped when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the underware, then turned with a jerk. And laying his nostril aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and way they all punched like a down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, and he gyrated out of sight, "Holy cow!"

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