An Ode To My Christmas Gift

‘Twas Five days before Christmas,
In the evening quite late,
And upon my poor shoulders,
Was a terrible weight.

The gifts were all purchased,
My accounts were all bare,
My job hung o’er a cliff,
By a fast-fraying hair.

The stock market was mauled,
By corporate hordes,
And my 401k,
Couldn’t buy three cans of Coors.

From an employment view,
I felt dreadfully cursed,
And just could not see how,
Things could get that much worse.

Then my wife had approached me,
‘cross the living room floor,
Then quietly told me,
She got knocked up once more.

My sphincter then puckered,
My ass felt so torn,
While my rear compressed diamonds,
From half-digested corn.

My head started reeling,
My stomach fell ill,
How could this have happened,
While she’s on the pill?

I glanced down at my winkie,
While my soul filled with dread,
Then pointed and shouted,
“NOW OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

Now I fear how I’ll clothe it,
Or school it or feed it,
But all things considered,
I still can’t wait to meet it.

So, anyone want to say good-bye to my nuts before I stick them in the microwave?