Twas the Night Before Conkles Came

T’was the night ‘fore the Conkles would come to our house,
And Ruthie was fretting, like a dutiful spouse.

The place looked nicer than I’d ever seen
In the pretense that our home was always this clean.

The cats were all noisily busy at play,
In the smugness that Becky resented their stay.

And Ruthie was falling asleep, with a cough,
As I begged her to please turn her reading lamp off.

When in the other room we heard the phone ring,
And I wondered where Ruthie had NOW left that thing.

When out to the kitchen I made a quick dash,
And found she had knocked our lone phone in the trash.

The voice that I heard on the answering machine
Made us both doubly glad the apartment was clean.

When what to my wondering ears did I hear,
But my wife’s long-lost parents were finally here.


What a wonderful couple, so vibrant and young,
In excitement I found myself clicking my tongue.

As they pulled in the drive, and got out of their van,
We were glad they had upgraded from a sedan.


So into our home these two travelers flew,
My mother-in-law and her dear husband, too.

And then in a second, our memory drove
In the fact we’d forgotten to clean off the stove.

As I told Ruthie it was okay to calm down,
Up the porch steps the two Conkles came with a bound.

They were dressed in the clothes they’d been wearing for days,
And were sorting their way through the lost baggage craze.

A full bag of gadgets, he had in his pack,
which was full of new razors he’d have to take back.

We went out to breakfast, a quite pleasant treat
And made sure not to slip on the slick, icy street.

A nice, tasty breakfast, so pleasant and brown,
They had barely begun as I wolfed mine all down.

He went straight to his phone, without touching a bite
And continued to work on the lost luggage plight.

He continued to talk ‘til his breakfast was cold,
And he asked them to heat it again, so we’re told.

But through the whole process, after all of the gabbing,
They would get pick it up en route to Brain and Abby’s.

And away they soon drove, like the down on a thistle,
As my mother-in-law shouted love to her FSIL.

And they told us with passion, both deeply excited,
“Enjoy your next flight, but don’t fly with United.”


With love, from Chris
Christmas, 2008