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’twas Christmas Day night,
And my humble abode,
Looked like a toy store had almost explode (ed).
The day started off, all shiny and new,
With kisses, and hugs, between all the Whos.
How fun! Santa came! Who would ever have known?
Since the anger and the fighting between Twins had grown.
The Elf on the Shelf helped so much, and how!
I weep to myself, for what do I do now?
There are too many days until Christmas comes here,
I wish there was an elf for all months of the year.
Still, the morning starts off great, paper thrown in the air,
As Santa got the credit for everything there.
But then it went bad, all so very bad,
Twin A’s Iron Man costume fit better, more rad!
Twin’s B’s mom, (I mean, Santa) had thought he was smaller,
When the costume was bought, but he had grown so much taller.
The arms were too tight, the legs came to his knee,
Little Who looked like a teeny, tiny Ed Grimley.
We hurriedly sought another gift to appease,
While Twin B ripped off the costume, quickly with ease.
With a smile on his face, we sighed in relief,
Until he jumped A, grabbing his costume, that thief!
The rest of the day drug on and got worse,
As the twins made bets to who would break us first.
We did not break, we kept to our station,
While secretly longing for an extended vacation.
Finally the twins were chained, oops, I mean tucked in their beds,
With visions of their mean parents ingrained in their heads.
We stare at the carnage, while hopped up on caffeine,
As we rock, paper, scissors, which Who gets to clean.
I begged off the cleaning, as that would behoove me,
And popped in a zombie apocalypse movie.
Next year, I thought, reaching for the popcorn bowl,
I’m giving them nothing, nothing but coal.