Merry Stripper Table Fable

Twas the night before Schatze Christmas, and all through our diggs,
The air smelled like onion and we couldn't wait to eat like pigs.
The stockings were hung by the fireplace with a toss,
In hopes that Santa Claus would fill them with the sauce.

Roldy was nestled all snug in his bed,
And visions of that scorpion in the garage earlier stung through my head.
And Mr with his XBox controller, and I with my nightcap,
He told me how great it'd be to start the next morning with a good Christmas crap.

When out in the rocks there arose such a clatter,
I pushed myself off the couch knowing those sugar cookies had instantly made me fatter.
Away to the window I traveled with a traipse,
Stubbed my toe on the end table and threw open the drapes.

The moon on the breast of a desert without snow
Gave the lustre of a margarita to the metropolitan below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Fantasia, the exotic dancer, in platforms with her big bag of stripper gear.

"Now glitter! Now sequins! Now mirrors and red velvet!
On beads! on carnations! and some rhinestones for the hell of it!
To the top of the pole! To the top of a table!
Like that time in an alley atop a Mercury Sable!"

As feathers that during a cabaret number fly,

When met with a dollar bill they stick to the thigh.
So up the side of the house on the drainpipe she flew,
Like an expert maneuvering that six inch heeled shoe.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
A prancing that could only come from a pump by Adrienne Maloof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Fantasia worked it with a bound.

She was dressed in some fur, glitter lotion, and a silver choker,
And her fingers were yellowed so you could tell she was a smoker.
Her bundle of gear she had flung on her back,
When she set it on the carpet, I thought I saw crack.


Her eyelashes how they twinkled!  Her bosom so merry!
Her lips swelled with injections! Not a spot that was hairy!
Her perky little mouth was drawn up like a bow.
How much action it's seen, I never want to know.

The last puffs of a cig she held tight in her lips,
With a figure like hers she must make a killing in tips.
Her face with good cheek bones and a taught, firm belly,
And a butt that when she grabbed her ankles shook like a bowl full of jelly.


She was slender and toned, a right hottie little elf
With red glitter boots that made me drool on myself.
A wink of her eye and a hair fling of the head,
Soon made me know I had nothing to dread.

She spoke not a word, but went straight to work.
She stripper glammed my table, glittering carnations with a smirk.
Then doing the splits with a point in her toes,
And a quick extended jazz hands, up the chimney she rose!

She sprang to the sidewalk, hailed a cab with a whistle,
And away she drove like a predator missile.
But I heard her exclaim, as she drove out of sight,
"Happy stripper Christmas to all! Now, someone give me a light."