’Twas the night before Christmas, and nothing was right,
The plans were all broken by 7:15 night.
The wine was too strong (or the night was too long),
Someone cried in the bathroom to Mariah Carey’s song.
The gifts were half-wrapped with aggressive tape,
One looked like a loaf. One escaped.
The scissors were missing, the tags all said “To: ???”,
And one gift was clearly just gas station décor.
The tree leaned like it owed someone money,
The lights blinked in patterns that felt… threatening, funny.
An ornament shattered—“That was vintage!” someone yelled,
While sweeping it up with the good kitchen towel.
The dog ate a stocking, the cat chose violence,
The smoke alarm screamed into the awkward silence.
The fridge held one grape, expired sour cream,
And leftovers labeled “Don’t eat” (a bluff, not a dream).
Someone said, “Let’s play games!” — immediate regret,
Monopoly ended with threats and a bet.
Old grudges resurfaced, new ones were born,
All over who moved the elf wrong this morn.
By midnight, pajamas, sarcasm, and crumbs,
Everyone swore, “Next year—we’ll be better,” then shrugged.
Because Christmas is magic, but mostly it’s this:
A loud, tipsy, chaotic, barely held-together bliss.
So cheers to the mess, the stress, and the cheer —
Merry Christmas to all… now who hid the wine? It was here
stake ID rlalani24
