By Jim Dallas
This year I will ask Santa to stop NASA public affairs agents from waxing poetic about astronomical events:
The presents are opened, the stockings askew.
Two pounds of turkey are inside of you.
Your eyelids are drooping. The sun's going down.
Christmas is over. But wait... what's that sound?
The neighbors. They're shouting, "Look to the west!"
Outside you dash, along with the rest.
The sky is as pink as Santa Claus' nose.
And right in the middle--two UFOs!
Could it be an invasion? Some creatures from space?
Now you're awake. Your heart starts to race.
Run back to the house. Pick up the phone.
9-1-1, 9-1-1! "They're coming," you moan.
The voice on the line says, "Sir, just relax."
"There's nothing to fear. Let me give you the facts."
"Those spaceships you see aren't spaceships, no, no."
"Astronomers say it's a harmless light show."
"One's a planet called Venus, as bright as can be."
"The other's the moon. Now do you see?"
So go tell your neighbors: everything is alright."
"Merry Christmas to all. And to all a good night."
Posted by Jim Dallas at December 22, 2003 06:15 PM
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