12/22/2022
'Twas the Night before Christmas at Scrubbys Laundromat
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ‘mat
Not a creature was stirring, neither mouse nor cat;
The stocking was hung on the washer with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The washer lids open, the dryers were cool.
(For after-hours, that is the rule.)
The drop-offs were folded all snug in their baskets,
Dreaming of hanging in closets with jackets.
When from the lot, arose such a din,
I jumped from the stool to see who’d pulled in.
There at the window I peered through the blind,
Perhaps – it does happen – a late customer, I’d find.
The light from the streetlamp on Victorian snow,
Gave our lot that warm city glow.
When, what to my laundering eyes should appear,
But a big laundry hamper and eight Van Isle deer.
With a crotchety driver, neither lively nor quick,
I knew right away: This can’t be St. Nick!
More swiftly than panthers his teammates they came,
He grunted, and snorted, and called them by name:
“Hey, Penner! Hey, Porter! Hey, Davis and Sawyer!
(*cough) Batson! And Baldwin! Barlow and Porter!
Onto the roof, above the lit sign!
To Scrubby’s Laundromat, end o’ the line!”
Past Brady’s and HotHouse, Theresa’s Nails too,
Up on the roof of Scrubby’s they flew.
With that crotchety driver (I think he was green??)
And that big laundry hamper, all this was seen.
And then, with a thud, I heard overhead,
This clopping and plopping like nothing I’d read.
I opened the dryer and peered in the drum,
Down the vent pipe this creature did come.
He was covered in fur, indeed it was green!
Then covered in lint, ‘cause that’s where he’d been.
A big sack of socks he had flung on his back,
He looked just ridiculous, a bit outta whack.
His eyes, they were yellow, his eyebrows drawn down,
And on his mouth, seemed a permanent frown.
But then he did give me a bit of a smirk,
Never before, had I seen this at work.
The stump of a pickle he held in his teeth,
A dribble of juice on his chin underneath.
Looking at me from under his hood,
I had the impression he’d been up to no good.
He had by his side a terrier mutt,
The collar said MAX, and now I knew what:
The matter was clear, I knew in a cinch,
This creature right here, indeed was the Grinch.
He threw down the sack and opened the catch,
Pulling out socks, all with no match.
Now it sank in, it all became clear:
He gives back the socks that he takes through the year.
Then, his job done, he went back up the vent,
As quick as he came, so off he went.
But I did hear him grunt as he flew out of sight,
“Merry Christmas, I guess…have a good night.”
Victoria Cougars Junior Hockey
Victoria Buzz