It's Christmas at the Bakers, no hostility allowed.
No sour looks to spoil the eggnog for this joyful crowd.
No controversy, fight or feud of miserly intent
Will foil the well-planned party we took so long to invent,
Or mar our witty cover-up, this gift from heaven sent.
"Cover-up? Sounds exciting. What's it about?"
The beast unwrapped, revealed is Bess, the humble pachyderm,
Clad in green stripes and polka-dots so red they'll make you squirm.
See mirrored in her sequined eyes the mouse you like to squeak,
See subjects you disdain to face tattooed upon her cheek,
See her precocious trunk request a game of hide-and-seek.
"Sounds suspicious. I don't know if I can trust her."
Well, maybe not, but...
You can't pretend she isn't there, though you may wish you could,
If you could look beneath her skin, I'm very sure you would
Her floppy, purple ears suggest you really should cave in
And humor her for just a bit, for that's the way to win...
Your face fills with chagrin. Why do you act like it's a sin?
"Because it's weird - as in, majorly strange. In fact, it's freak-in' - Oh, forget it! Just forget it! Get me out of here!"
But I can't forget it. I've got a memory like an elephant.
"That's what's creeping me out."
Aw, come on, Stan. Your candy cane has made a royal mess,
And tackling Bess requires skills few diplomats possess:
Strong feet, firm hips, closed lips, sure hands that aim and don't think twice,
A persevering faith that doesn't fail to pay the price
In accidental trips and unsolicited advice.
Hush, Stan! The game has started and the peanut shells are laid,
The elephant's been elevated. Now for the parade.
This motley mob, you see, has formed a circle 'round the beast.
Each gets a chance to whack it, from the greatest to the least.
Then, once the job is done, you'll all enjoy a hearty feast.
"A feast? What kind of feast?"
A very sweet one.
"All right, then. If I have to."
Good, that's the spirit! Watch your grip now. Don't be so aloof!
You're swinging blindly and, I fear, you've made an awful goof.
I see you volunteer again, but still you have no luck, For Bess's bulk has dodged your blows, and yet you've failed to duck.
Now, Stan. Don't have a meltdown. There's no reason to stay stuck.
"I'll have a meltdown if I want to, because I've had it with your bossiness. So there!"
But... but, Stan!
"Topic closed. No further discussion."
Sigh. Okay, so...
Repeated blows, though clumsy, pop a hole in Bess's belly.
Out pours a wealth of lollipops, mints, gummies, beans of jelly.
Piņatas can be fun, especially when they contain
a horde of golden chocolates wrapped in verses to sustain
A person's life in times of need with sweet, refreshing rain.
For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6, KJV)
"Ah, that's more like it. Why didn't you say so in the first place?"
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