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December 20, 2016 / hbrowne4

Christmas Challenge

It Was The Night before Christmas by Harry Browne

(This story needs to be read in a strong Dublin accent)

I’ was the night before Christmas and the bleedin’ gaff was in a right state of chassis. Me youngest, you know, Jacinta, the one that married that black fells from Nigeria or Kenya, one of them pagan African countries anyway, well her eldest, Dasher set fire to her kitchen when he was frying some sausages for his supper.

In anyway, he sat down to do his needlepoint, he’s a champion sewer and knitter you know, and wouldn’t you know it he forgot the bleedin’ sausages and next thing he noticed the whole kitchen was burnt to the ground. It was only the mercy of God that he got the other nine little ones out without as much as a scorch mark on them.

In anyway, to make a long story short, Jacinta’s husband was away on one of his jaunts out of the country, he’s a long distance lorry driver, you know, and she’d no place else to go so her and her ankle biters were staying with me.

Jacinta always got inta the spirit of Christmas, some might say she overdid it a bit, certainly she had ten kids, all of them born in the month of September, so the Christmas spirit certainly ran strong in her. So big inta the whole yule tide thing was she that she’d named her kids after Santa’s reindeers.

So there we are, Christmas Eve and the house full of bread snappers an me going outta me mind with the cryin’, fightin’, and general mayhem when the littlest one, Olive, comes roarin’ into the kitchen just as meself a Jacinta was havin’ a little restorative G&T. “Granny, Mammy” she bawls “Rudolph has put his big ugly boot through the toilet bowl and the water is floodin’ out all over the bathroom floor”

“Holy Mother of all the mercies” I shouted “Was ever a poor oul wan persecuted in the Holy Season of Christmas like me” and I jumped up to see what was after happenin’

Turns out that he hadn’t broken the bowl but the Cistercian was stuck and the water was pourin’ out all over me new Rocca Tile floor. I’m just standin’ there gobsmacked when I hear this unmerciful screeching downstairs. I run down, nearly trippin’ over me slippers and find Jacinta beatin’ the Bejasus outta Rudolph wit’ the good wooden spoon, “Yeh little rednosed git, if yer not goin’ inta mischief, yer comin’ outta it. Before this night is out, I’ll make ye inta a proper Christian or one of us’ll be dead” She was in a righ’ tizzy so she was.

Just then, what do ya think happened? a loud knockin’ came to the front door. Blitzen, her littlest ran to open it, he’s always the quickest to do something. We’re there in the kitchen listenin’ to see who’s at the door when in walks Jacinta’s fella with Blitzen on his shoulders. “Merry Christmas” he booms in his loud voice and the little child says “and God Bless us, everyone”

Suddenly, like she’s just got an injection or somethin’ Jacinta’s face lights up with the spirit of the season and she rushes to his outstretched arms and the huggin’ and kissin’ looks it’s never goin’ to stop.

“Ah Jaysus” I think to meself ‘CA sure as eggs is eggs, there’ll be another little reindeer next September. We’ve run outta names for this one. Maybe we’ll call it Chancer”


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