Friday, August 3, 2007

St. Peter Saves Christmas

God wasn’t thrilled by the presents received.
They hadn’t been as good as he’d believed.
No quad bikes, games or fancy clocks,
Just packets and packets of novelty socks.
Of course, he didn’t envy his only Son,
Who had Christmas and birthday all rolled into one,

But just when he thought the presents were over,
He heard St. Peter crying “Jehovah!”
And there, hobbling up from the Heavenly Gate,
Came the very first Pope with a massive crate.
“Happy Christmas God,” said the archetypal
Fisherman who became disciple.

God looked hard at the old apostle,
Standing beside the crate colossal.
“It’s not full of socks?” he asked with alarm,
Feeling a shiver running down his arm.
But Peter just smiled and stood quite still,
Proffering God the cordless drill.

In ten seconds flat, the screws were out,
And the Lord let out a mighty shout.
“Holy Smoke! Great Balls of Fire!
I’ve got my very own tumble drier!”
And he jigged around the new machine
That would dry the clothes once they were clean.

“Oh thanks, old pal, old buddy, old mate!”
He yelled to the Keeper of the Heavenly Gate.
“Its just the thing I’d hoped to get.
Old friend, I’m forever in your debt.”
And he heaved the machine up onto his back
And hurried away to the utility shack.

The rest of the angels watched him depart
And said, “Dear Peter, please do impart
How you should know that special gift
Would give the Lord above a lift.
Did he drop hints how much he loathes
The time it takes to dry his clothes?”

St. Peter smiled and shook his head.
“No, not a bit of it,” he said.
“There were no clues, as I recall,
Nor hints of any kind at all.
But wherefore do you all enquire?
Sure, don’t you know? God loves a drier.”

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