The Drunken Christmas Tree
May 6th, 2009
Slow as slow can be
So stumbles the drunken Christmas Tree.
Dragging behind the pieces of the past
In a tatty old sack that will never last,
He scours the streets for the last sign of hope,
Something to help him, something to cope.
Sloshing in his stomach a full bottle of gin,
Lacking the whimsy, the joy and his grin.
December is gone, like the fragments of his mind,
Like the cosy living room he left behind.
Arthur “Lemon” Lemonson – 2009
Entry Filed under: Bedtime stories,Ian,Tragic
7 Comments
1. Kevil | May 6th, 2009 at 12:36
That made me sad… until i imagined a pissed christmas tree staggering around with a bin bag of broken baubles.
tee hee hee
2. Chris | May 6th, 2009 at 20:06
Poor Christmas Tree should visit Alcholholics anonyumumnous.
3. Ian "Mac Mac Mac Mac" McIver | May 6th, 2009 at 20:31
It was supposed to show a more cultured side of da beans. I mean there’s only so many dick and fart jokes we can do before they get a little, mmm, stale.
4. Chris | May 7th, 2009 at 17:50
So you brought us some WOOD? Ha ha ha!
Lame.
5. Ian Mac Mac Mac Mac McIver | May 8th, 2009 at 13:52
I don’t get it.
6. Chris | May 9th, 2009 at 02:07
Ask Arthur “Lemon” Lemonson. He’ll give it to you. (Hur hur hur)
7. Ian "Mac Mac Mac Mac" McIver | May 16th, 2009 at 23:49
What?