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My Christmas Stocking

"My annual contribution…is a Christmas stocking a good metaphor for an ex wife?"
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Published 4 years ago

All last year you griped and moaned
while I would hide or just get stoned
to make it through your constant shrill henpecking.

Then you finally sneaked away
the morning after Christmas day
and drained the funds we had in our joint checking.

After you had packed your junk
and ran away with that young punk
I was awash with conflicting emotions.

Sometimes I longed for your return
sometimes I prayed that you would burn
I vacillated twixt opposing notions.

But it was when I got the call
that you made with amazing gall
asking me to wire you bail money

because the cash had all been spent
south of the border where you went
with your dark and handsome boy-toy honey

and now you begged me to come back
and make our home a new love shack
and get all warm and cuddly and kissy

and be a true and loving wife
and start anew our married life
and promise not to be so mean and pissy

and sate my deepest dark desires
quenching raging sexual fires
doing anything I might demand

thus swallowing pride and other things
so we would wear our wedding rings
and stroll through life together hand in hand

that all, at last, did clarify
inside my refocused mind’s eye
about what I would do in your regard

and finally on that quite cold night
I knew exactly what was right
The ultimate decision wasn’t hard.

No, I shall not bail you out
no matter how you plead or shout.
Never will I be again rebuffed.

Evacuate in your small pail
as you hang there in that jail
and like a Christmas stocking go get stuffed.


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