Sunday, December 18, 2016

Wendel's Christmas World: Haul out the Holly, I'll Bring the Virus

(I wrote this column for the Grand Island Independent in 2001)

Season's Greetings from Wendel's World.  I've been under the weather over the past
few days, so my Christmas column will be shorter than usual (my gift to you).  I'd
like to share a poem I wrote for the holidays and one that I hope will be preserved
down through the ages, read and re-read as a timeless Christmas classic.  Clement
Moore and Charles Dickens ain't got nothing on me.

A Visit from St.Virus
    by Wendel Potter

'Tis the virus before Christmas and
all through my lungs,
a cold bug is coursing,
it isn't much fun.

The hacking and sneezing
from deep down in my toes 
give a luster to objects
in the path of my nose.

Sniffling and snorting
by the tree is a crime,
and the Good Wife is wondering:
"Is it tinsel or slime?"

I can't get to sleep,
I toss and I turn,
I shake and I shiver,
I freeze and I burn.

So I go to the sofa
and turn out the light,
all this coughing and sputtering,
it's no silent night.

On Advil, on Nyquil
on antihistamine,
on cough drops, on codeine,
on shots of Jim Beam.

These mixed medications
create a strange feeling,
like I've sprung from the couch
and stuck to the ceiling.

Hopped up as I am
on this midnight clear,
it wouldn't surprise me
to see flying reindeer.

Now it's two in the morning
and I fix some hot tea.
I'm getting so bored,
guess I'll watch some TV.

So I grab the remote
and push buttons on the panel,
yet there's nothing on cable
but the damn Weather Channel.

I finally doze off
for a short winter's nap,
then wake with a start,
I've spilled hot tea in my lap!

I'd jump and I'd gyrate
if it weren't for arthritis,
and I'd holler expletives
but I have laryngitis.

I suffer in silence
and wait for my chance
when everyone's up
so I can get some dry pants.

It's one week 'til Christmas,
hope I'm over this virus.
My good wife agrees, saying
"It's beginning to tire us."

Now you're reading this poem
and I feel better perhaps.
Wait!  It's back to the sofa,
I've had a relapse!

Merry Christmas!

Reprinted from the Grand Island Independent
December 19, 2001


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