Nice Do you remember when you were a kid, and your parents coaxed you into bed early, threatening that if you weren’t asleep Santa would pass you by? They were lying, obviously, on several levels, but that isn’t my point. And have you ever noticed how many people are born in September? I know I was. Like half of my friends were. Statisticians would say this is a localized anomaly of poor randomization that would smooth out over time- but statisticians are the odd manner of duckling that are caught in their offices touching themselves to binary porn- besides which, they lack imagination. The beleaguered end I’m aiming for is that when we were snuggled all warm with sugar plums in our heads, mommy and daddy were playing their bedroom games (forgive me, for what follows rhymes slightly, but the egg nog’s taken hold). His stump, like a pipe, she held in her teeth, And smoked it as she pulled his skin back like a sheath Then he climbed up mommy’s chimney, all dressed in fur, And she twisted his head and started to purr. All may have been quiet, all through the house, While dad stirred up mom with his plump Christmas mouse, Down the hall you tread and on their door did you tap, said, “I heard mommy crying-” “We were taking a nap.” Their bedposts shook like a bowlful of jelly, As daddy threatened to fill up mommy’s belly. And as you tiptoed to your bedroom below, Father exclaimed something about breasts and “new-fallen snow” And I heard him exclaim as he came in the night, “Merry Christmas to all, and to, all a, good, good ni…” Jingly Balls Naughty       or       Epilogue