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The Perfect Solution is Perfect
Binding
Eternal Message
of the Holidays
When The
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Stopping By
Copresco On A Snowy Evening
How Important is On Time
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Twas The Night
Before Christmas
What’s Wrong With This
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Work
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The Spirit
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Quarter
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White
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All Docutechs
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All
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All Docutechs Are Not Equal
II
All Docutechs Are Not
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What A Difference
A Year Makes
Happy
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Business As
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The Week Before
Christmas
‘Twas the
week before Christmas, it happens each year,
Regrettably though, I was not
quite in gear.
Neighbors’ houses were gaily festooned
Mine by
comparison looked downright marooned.
Few gifts had been purchased, the
stockings just sagged
My Holiday spirit decidedly lagged.
Outside
I detected a noise on the lawn
I moved not an inch, just stifled a
yawn.
In through the door walked the ghost of Bob Cratchit
I’d
closed the darn door, just forgotten to latch it.
His cheeks had a
pallor His eyes had no soul;
Into my hands he thrust lumps of black
coal
“I’m sorry Steve, but you get the gist—
You’ve
been a slacker, now Santa is pissed.”
“Take it back,” I
cried “ you silly old teaser!’
“I can’t,” he
whined back,” I work for that Geezer”
“But the
parties,” I squeaked, “ the feasts and the grog…”
“Maybe,” he mused, ”you can eat with the dog.”
“See, Santa’s wont take no pretenders this year—
You
can’t have the Christmas If you ain’t got the cheer.”
“I’ll change,” I promised,” I’ll sing, shop and
bake…
…do unto others and eat the fruitcake.”
Cratchitt
looked leery; the reindeer just sneered
Getting out of this jam was worse
than I’d feared.
“You’ve got 24 hours to get Christmas
right,
or risk getting kennelled with Fido all night”
You must BE
Christmas to kith and to kin,
Give it your all, and don’t phone it
in.
So I started out baking, fuelled by strong coffee
Made
mountains of rumballs and piles of good toffee.
Next I began buying some
gifts
To mend a few fences, patch up a few rifts.
I bought them for
kids and for siblings and cousins
For aunties and uncles and friends by the
dozens.
I gifted the teachers, the people at work,
The dentist, the
taxman, the neighborhood jerk.
By then I had picked up lots of
momentum.
If gifts weren’t in stores, I’d darn well invent
‘em.
On a roll now and spurred by endorphins,
I started up food
drives, made mittens for orphans.
I sang carols loudly ‘cause I’d
learned all the verses.
I drew a few stares, some whispers and curses.
I did acts of kindness for people in need
With grace and compassion,
remarkable speed.
“There’s one thing more,” I said to old
Cratchit,
“Let’s head to the forest; I’ll borrow your
hatchet.”
I found the best tree and brought it back here.
The fake
one was gone for Christmas was near.
So when I sat down for a Christmas
nibble
I’d earned the roast beef, instead of the kibble.
Cratchit
heard me exclaim as he rode off in his sled,
“Merry Christmas old
goat— I’m goin’ to bed!”
Thanks to
Melissa Zernick up in Cheeseville for writing this
poem.
Steve
Johnson, President
Copresco
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