Cindy in Bitches (proving that great minds do, indeed, think alike)
'Twas the Night After Solstice sorta by me
'Twas the night after Solstice, when all through Spike's Bitches
Not a creature was stirring, not even hedge witches;
Our stockings were hung by the chimney and yet,
Sean up and walked off with juliana's fence nets;
The Bitches were nestled all snug in their bunks,
Having visions of sugar-plums or just maybe hunks;
Teppy in her ski clothes, but many in gowns,
Had just settled down for their long winter's slounge,
When out on the 'net there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to b.org to check out the Natter.
Using Windows(TM) I flew like a flash,
Clicked open my favorites, avoided the slash.
The moon on the breast of the U.S. midwest
Gave the lustre of mid-day to many of b.org's best
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But ita's wet men, with many near bare!
I'm a little old lady, with dh and sprog,
But too many fine Bitches are in need of a snog.
More rapid than eagles the Bitches they came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, TEPPY! now, ERIKA! now, GINGER and SJ!
On, MARIA! on LEE! on, LILTY and SA!
To the top of the page! to the top of the lists!
Now click away! click away! click away Bitches!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to ita's site their Windows they flew,
For an eye full of boys, and that girlie elf, too.
And then, in a twinkling, one of them asked on the 'net
"What about us Bitches who aren't strictly het?"
Unable to help them, I looked down at the ground,
When down the chimney P.M.M. came with a bound.
She was dressed all in leather, from her head to her foot,
Maternity corset laced loosely, dainty foot in wee boot;
A bundle of links she did fling on the board,
She can be such a peddler, she never did hoard.
Her eyes -- how they twinkled! Her dimples how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the skin on her shoulders was as white as the snow;
The core of a apple she held tight in her hand,
(Hey! Princess Ticky Box needs her vitamins, man);
She had a pretty face and a little round belly,
It moved, because there's a baby in there, silly.
She was macking on Fay, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw them, in spite of myself;
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her task,
And left many fic links too, we didn't have to ask,
And laying her finger aside of she nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose;
She sprang to her sleigh, to her team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, ere she drove out of sight,
"HAPPY SURFING TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
Comm'ers Note: Both were posted on Dec. 23. On Dec. 23, 1823, the poem ''A Visit from St. Nicholas'' by Clement C. Moore was first published, in the Troy (N.Y.) Sentinel.