Xmas Riddles, Jokes, Poems, Comments, etc.

[rayheinrich]

Christmas Can Be Dangerous In The South East


The Upper Murrumbidgee Catchment Management Authority's
Ladies Auxiliary Social Committee, because of my connections,
appointed me to organise a Christmas party, so I asked the old folk
from the Nursing Home to join us for an all Australian barbecue
on the banks of the Snowy River, our National Icon.

After a bit of trouble with buses we set out from Cooma
towing a team of wheelchairs, gummy faces flapping in the wind,
false teeth tumbling onto the Snowy Mountains Highway,
roadkill dentata, quite Christo, as far as Berridale, where I had
a quick Resch's shandy or two while the driver hosed down
the wheelchair riders  in the carpark at Peel's Inn. We left deaf
Irma Strubbing in the bar with a blind cowboy
and carried on to Jindabyne.

Where the Snowy River becomes a lake
we disembarked. A logging truck pulled in beside us
with a couple of wheelchairs embedded in the 'roo bar
and while we were scraping them free
a bloody huge tree (mountain ash, if I'm not mistaken)
rolled from the truck and took out half the Committee as it fell.
Oh well, a few less prawns on the barbie.

By then I was into my second bottle of Bundaberg
OverProof rum and feeling no pain
so when a contingent of aborigines arrived to complain
we were desecrating their sacred site, I really let them have it -
the bottle I mean. The afternoon passed fast and furious.

Madame President got off with the truckie,
first time in a decade she'd been so lucky,
while I explained that the site was sacred to us too,
being the burial place of so many of Europe's
displaced persons after the end of WW2. They were impressed,
and promised, when they win government, to erect
an appropriate memorial.

Plenty of room in the bus for the return journey,
strange miasma of urine and vomit and jolly Christmas songs.
Luckily they all forgot about it straight away.

Now I'm working on a design
for a monument to the lost and squashed old folk
and, of course, half of the members
of the Upper Murrumbidgee Catchment Management Authority's
Ladies Auxiliary Social Committee .

    Oh, jeez...  The breath of a mind that can coalesce these various vapors of our existence
    into such a poem as this!  "Boggle" is much too weak a word.