I was "watching" the news while checking for cracks in my eyelids a bit ago when my doorbell rang. It was my mailman with a box and the mail for me. The box was from an old friend of mine, Al, who used to own a Ford Retractable. I opened the box and found that he had sent me a Road Rage Stress Reliever! You turn the ignition key and a display to the right of the key lights up. Then as you run it through the gears the guy makes noises like your motor running and his body shakes and vibrates. As you shift gears it does it more and gets louder. Cute! You just never know what you are gonna get in the mail! Here is my response to him regarding this gift.
'Twas several nights before Christmas, when all thro' the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
I was catnapping in my lounge chair while watching the news,
While visions of a Retro Tbird danc'd in my head,
And I in my Christmas tree cap,
Had just settled my brains for a long winter's nap-
When at my front door there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the door I flew like a flash,
Unlocked the door, and opened it up.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen leaves,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a minature sleigh, in the form of a USPS truck,
With a little old driver, not so so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be my overweight postman.
More rapid than snails his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name:
"Now! Babybird, now! Squarebird, now! Bulletbird, and Flairbird,
"On! Retrobird, on! Fairlane, on! Galaxie and Skyliner;
"To the front of the porch! to the top of the wall!
"Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
With their motors roaring up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of mail - and the postman too:
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof on my brand new roof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney the postman came with a bound:
He was dress'd all in post office blue, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with ashes and soot;
A box in a bag was flung on his back,
And he look'd like a peddler just opening his pack:
His eyes - how they were swollen! his dimples how shrunken,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
From drinking to much the night before,
And the beard of his chin was blackened with soot;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a tired face, and a big fat belly
That shook when he laugh'd, like a bowl full of jelly:
He was chubby and plump, a right tired old elf,
And I laugh'd 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 gave me my box from an old friend,
And taking his finger out of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprung to his mail truck, turned on the ignition,
And away they all flew, his 430MEL engine a humming:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.'
Here is a pic of it.
'Twas several nights before Christmas, when all thro' the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
I was catnapping in my lounge chair while watching the news,
While visions of a Retro Tbird danc'd in my head,
And I in my Christmas tree cap,
Had just settled my brains for a long winter's nap-
When at my front door there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the door I flew like a flash,
Unlocked the door, and opened it up.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen leaves,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a minature sleigh, in the form of a USPS truck,
With a little old driver, not so so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be my overweight postman.
More rapid than snails his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name:
"Now! Babybird, now! Squarebird, now! Bulletbird, and Flairbird,
"On! Retrobird, on! Fairlane, on! Galaxie and Skyliner;
"To the front of the porch! to the top of the wall!
"Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
With their motors roaring up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of mail - and the postman too:
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof on my brand new roof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney the postman came with a bound:
He was dress'd all in post office blue, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with ashes and soot;
A box in a bag was flung on his back,
And he look'd like a peddler just opening his pack:
His eyes - how they were swollen! his dimples how shrunken,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
From drinking to much the night before,
And the beard of his chin was blackened with soot;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a tired face, and a big fat belly
That shook when he laugh'd, like a bowl full of jelly:
He was chubby and plump, a right tired old elf,
And I laugh'd 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 gave me my box from an old friend,
And taking his finger out of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprung to his mail truck, turned on the ignition,
And away they all flew, his 430MEL engine a humming:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.'
Here is a pic of it.
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