Re: [CH] Store closings?

Inagaddadavida (rael@ebicom.net)
Sun, 13 Dec 1998 11:14:40 -0600 

At 09:25 AM 12/13/98 -0500, Alex Silbajoris wrote:
>Rael, that last tale belongs in a league with DWC's racoon-bycycle caper.

oh, I dunno if I can top that tale/tail...i rather miss Carpo's stories,
exploits of The ChileKids, etc...but i do have moments that sneak in,
TWHACK me on the head, and force me to send things to the Chilehead
list...my brethren, sistren (?)...youse be sooooo tolerant of
me...blessings to all....grope hug anyone?

uh, group huge?

(damn)

>Hey, who posted that excellent Night Before Christmas parody a year or two
>ago?  I'd love to have a copy of that again.

I did one of sorts but I believe there were a couple others floating
about...anywho...her 'tis...

Peace, Hendrix, and Chiles.......

Rael"...jammin' to a little billy idol @ da moment...memory zone, baby..."64
-------
Twas Da Night Prior To Xmas

Twas the night prior to Xmas and was a scent in the air,
of chiles and gumbo and shrimps and something akin to a wombat's lair,

Yet the ristras were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that Santa El Grande soon would be there...

I lay all alone in bed wrapped warmly in my hair,
with visions of Twister and redheads and most everyone bare...

Hark, 'twas a thump, a whump, a sound like a breaking chair,
so I crawled outta dreamland to see whom the hell was there...

As I approached I heard a voice quite loudly swear,
"Rael, you idiot, you left your game on the stairs!"

I apologized profusely, begged forgiveness, asked to be spared,
but the look on Chile Santa didn't help my dispair...

So I ran to the kitchen, grabbed some habs and a ripe pear,
blended it all quickly, whilst El Santa did stare...

The aroma was good, did quickly sweeten the air,
so I gave it to Chipotle Nick and said, "uh, man, you best beware..."

A bag of chips he produced, and a Dos Equis from somewhere,
"throw a log on the fire, boy" he said, sitting down on my Elvis beanbag
chair...

I did what he asked, scratched my butt, and sorta hoped he would share,
but no, Saint Chilehead - who was eyeballin' my gumbo - wasn't about to be
fair...

He ate it all down, belched fiercely, wiped his nose-hair,
then told me to go back to bed, to forget he was ever there...

I thanked him profusely, praised him, shook my hair,
then backed away quickly to escape his bloodshot glare...

I turned myself around and headed back up the stairs,
and snuck to the window to get one last stare...

And what did I see, what scene awaited me out there?
St. Habanero in his sleigh - with my gumbo and my Twister - climbing high
in the air...

"Habby Xmas," he screamed "sleep tight in yer snuggly underwear,
thanks for the eats and the game...I got plans for it when I hit Rio de
Janeir (o)..."