Christmas in Paris, Part Two: A Holiday Tale in Verse

’Twas the night before New Year’s, and all through Paree
Not a creature was stirring, except for some three
Million revelers out for a festive soirée,
All waiting for midnight to shout, “Bonne année!” 

The wife had just tucked in the children to sleep
(I had spiked their warm milk so they’d not make a peep),
As I laid out some oysters and popped a bon cru
In hopes to get lucky at midnight-oh-two…

When out in the street there arose such a roar
That I figured the winos were fighting once more.
Away to the window I flew like a snooper,
Expecting to see feisty bums in a stupor.

When what did appear, like some dumb déjà vu,
But a green minivan blocking off the whole rue.
The drivers behind it were screaming bad words
When the passenger got out and flipped them twin birds.

His white beard was scraggly, his red suit a ruin.
I hollered, “Saint Nick! What the hell are ya doin’?
You’re supposed to have reindeer, there’s supposed to be snow!
And you should’ve been here seven evenings ago!”

“Yeah, tell me about it!” the hefty man whined.
“I’m so behind schedule, I’m losing my mind.
My sleigh was delayed into Charles de Gaulle,
Where a strike slowed the baggage claim down to a crawl.

“The customs guys picked me to search, joy of joys,
And of course I was over the limit for toys.
The wait at the passport check seemed like a cent’ry,
Only to find out I couldn’t get entry!

“My North Polar visa was one day outdated.
So, stuck at the airport, I sat there and waited
For five days until my new papers came through,
With no change of clothes and with nothing to do.”

“But where’s Dasher? Where’s Blitzen?” I asked. “Where’s your crew?”
“In quarantine, dammit,” he sighed. “Reindeer flu!
No ‘top of the porch’ crap, no ‘top of the wall’ —
I had to call Uber to get here at all.

“The road into town was jammed bumper to nose…
But I’ve got stuff to give you — enough of my woes!”
He said as he hauled out a huge, well-worn bag,
“Can’t fly without Rudy — I’ll toss you the swag!”

Despite advanced age and his kilos de trop,
I had to admit: that old codger could throw!
He flung up some foie gras, champagne and fromage,
Right into my hands on the second étage.

“Hey, thanks, dude!” I yelled, “You got time for a snort?”
“No, but rain check!” he said, “my list’s long, the night’s short.
Besides, I see gendarmes not far down the road —
I had best get a move on before I get towed!”

His chauffeur laid rubber and leaned on the tooter,
Ran a light and just missed some poor kid on a scooter.
But I heard Santa say, with his blithe nonchalance,
“Happy New Year to all, and to all Vive la France!”

© 2015 Paris Update