By Toni Jakovec

‘Twas the 24th night, when all through the car/shelter/house,

Not an endangered species was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the antenna/emergency exit/chimney with care,

In hopes that Mr./Ms./Mrs. Nicholas soon would be there.

The age-challenged were nestled all snug in their camas/bettos/beds,

While visions of high-fiber plum muffins danced in their heads.

And Mama in his/her kerchief and I in my “MADD” cap,

Had just settled ourselves and the child-within-us for a long winter’s

nap -

When out in the lawn/barrio/hood there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my car/bed/subway grating to see what was the matter.

Away to the dashboard/window/curb I sprinted chop-choppy,

Tore open the newspaper covers and threw up the serape.

When what to my menorah-lit eyes should appear,

But a dysfunctional sleigh and eight height-challenged reindeer.

With an age-endowed driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be Mr./Ms./Mrs. Nick.

Faster than the snail darter the coursers they came,

He/she/it whistled bilingually calling each one by name:

“Yo Dasher, Yo Dancer, Yo Prancer, Bro Vixen!

Yo Comet, Yo Cupid, Yo Donner, Señor Blitzen -

To the top of the stoop/porch/fender, to the top of the mall!

Now, dash away, dash away, equal-opportunity to all!”

So, up to the casa/house/cardboard box the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of anatomically correct toys - and Mr./Ms./Mrs. Nicholas too.

And then in a twinkling I heard on the shopping cart/hardtop/roof,

The prancing and pawing of each special-education hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the alley/drain pipe/chimney Mr./Ms./Mrs. Nicholas came with a bound.

Dressed all in fake fur from head to foot,

The clothes were all tarnished with ozone and soot.

A bundle of ethnically diverse educational toys were flung on his/her/its back,

And he/she/it looked like a homeboy just opening his/her/its pack.

The droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the chin dreadlocks were as black/white as snow.

The stump of a pipe held tight in the teeth,

As the second-hand smoke circled the head like a wreath.

A smiling broad face and nutritionally enhanced belly,

That shook with pride like a bowl of zero-cholesterol, nonfat jelly.

A day-by-day 12-step overeater, he/she/it is a jolly elf;

And I smiled supportively, as I pinched an inch of myself.

He/she/it was nonverbal but went straight to the vocationally appropriate work,

And filled all the stockings then turned with a jerk.

Laying a surgically gloved finger aside of his/her/its nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney/fire escape/drain pipe he/she/it rose.

He/she/it sprang to the sleigh, and to the team gave a Native American whistle,

And away they all flew like the environmentally protected down of the brown-speckled thistle.

But I heard him/her/it exclaim, ere he/she/it drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas/Chanukah/Bogie’s Birthday to all, and to all a politically correct Good Night!”

Jakovec is a Los Altos resident.