Old St. Dick

This is a story,

About Old St. Dick,

An imposture at best,

And a little bit thick,

But that didn’t stop him,

From being a prick,

At Christmas he’d follow,

Shoppers to malls,

And steal all their presents,

From toilet seat stalls,

And when kids lined up for Santa,

St. Dick crept up on their moms,

Pick pocketed purses,

Until some mall cop with balls,

Showed him outside,

Once and for all,

Amidst the fresh,

New fallen snow,

O’er the hills, into the woods,

To the backseat of the po po,

St. Dick always seemed,

To go,

A reasonable person,

Would quite certainly think,

That surely some prison,

Would do the trick,

But instead,

It just made him,

More of a dick,

Sometimes he’d sleep,

Out by the park,

As stray dogs passed by,

Even they knew,

A leopard never,

Changes its spots.

This particular Christmas,

Mrs. St. Dick,

Was fed up alot,

So she sat up and waited,

For him to come home,

And just as he passed out,

In the hallway,

As usual,

Alone,

She tied Old St. Dick,

To a haphazard sleigh,

And called upon the possums,

To drag him to a dumpster,

Far, far away,

When St. Dick woke up,

He was cold, damp and wet,

An angel stood beside him,

Who laughed but not wept,

“I took the overtime pay,”

Sighed the angel with regret,

“To come here to tell you,

That’s you’ve got one last bet,

A sort of chance if you will,

To undo a lifetime of ugly,

Resentments,”

“Are you sure?” 

St. Dick muttered,

To the angel that hovered,

Ever so slightly,

O’er his head,

“That you’ve got the right Dick?

Or that I’m not just dead?”

“You’re Old St. Dick,

Aren’t you?”

Asked the angel in disdain,

“Yes, I sure am!”

Said Old Dick,

“So what’s in a name?”

“Well for starters you are,

The biggest Christmas Dick!

From here to Uranus,

We all know you stink!

You rob God’s children,

Cheat on your wife,

Absolutely no regard,

For any form of life!

But since you chose the name,

Old St. Dick,

Im here to teach you the hard way,”

Said the angel with a wink,

The next thing you know,

He swooped up St. Dick,

Up, up and away,

They disappeared quick,

“Are you the ghost of Christmas past?”

Yelled St. Dick from below,

“Ha!” said the angel,

“You wish!

Just hold and,

Enjoy the show!”

The angel took Old Dick,

To a very large theatre, 

Handed him his ticket, 

As they say down in the center,

Of the very front row.

And for the next forty-five hours,

He made Old St. Dick,

Watch the same reruns, 

Of The Bill Cosby Show,

Some House of Cards too,

Alot of Oprah and CNN,

Cabal controlled  ho-ho-ho,

To the tune of Little Yachty,

Someone St. Nick, 

Didn’t even know,

“Take me back home!”

I can’t take this torture no more!”

I am new!

I am sorry!

I have remorse!

I’m reformed!”

So the angel kept his promise,

And with the flash of the sun,

Flew St. Dick back to the very place, 

To the very night,

From which he had come,

So happy he was, 

To see Mrs. St. Dick, 

Who was waiting on the porch,

With a light and a really big brick,

More furious than ever, 

At Old St. Dick,

“I told you I’m cured!”

Cried Old St. Dick,

“Why are you leaving me with this deadly,

Irate, uncontrollable woman,

With a mighty big stick?!”

The angel smiled as he flew out of sight,

“I told you I’d save you,

I gave you back your life!

But not even an angel,

Can help with that wife!”

And off he left,

With grand wings of soaring flight,

Wishing all a Merry Christmas,

And to all a good night!

~ Copyright 2018 Dilara Esengil All Rights Reserved

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