Author: Beth Gray

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house (single family, joisted masonry, e.c.3, terr. 44, pc5), not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse (thorough pride of ownership and excellent maintenance). The (flame-retardant) stockings were hung by the (contractor-installed) chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there (in spite of deadbolt locks and central station alarm system). The children (ages 4, 8, 14, & 16) were all nestled snug in their beds (check MVR on 16-year-old) while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads (check for drug use). Ma in her kerchief (scheduled heirloom) and I in my cap (no slave to fashion) had just settled down for a long winter’s nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter (check into condition of premises, housekeeping, etc.), I jumped out of bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, threw back the curtains and tore open the sash (intentional destructive act, no coverage). When what to my wondrous eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer. (check if sleigh is rated business use and corporate owned.) With a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. (Notify life underwriting, order medical on 600-year-old driver). More rapid than eagles (check...