‘Twas the Night Before Payday: A Christmas Poem
As we navigate this wacky economic rollercoaster, I couldn’t help but notice a peculiar holiday cheer in the air—one that smells distinctly of overpriced eggnog and desperation. Inflation has become the uninvited guest at every dinner table, eating all the good snacks and leaving us with crumbs. In the spirit of humor (and survival), I’ve reimagined a classic holiday tale to reflect our current fiscal fiasco. So, grab a cup of “affordable” hot cocoa, and enjoy this satirical spin on ’Twas the Night Before Christmas.
’Twas the night before payday, and all through the house,
The fridge was as empty as my checking account.
The bills were stacked high on the table with care,
In hopes that a miracle soon would be there.
The kids begged for Roblox, “Just ten dollars, please!”
I countered with, “Kid, how about mac and cheese?”
And Mom with her coupons, and I in my shame,
Had just blamed the government—because they’re to blame.
When out on the street there arose such a clamor,
I peeked past my curtains to see the new scammer.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Thinking, “Who’s out there now, hitting me for more cash?”
The streetlight shone bright on a figure so sleazy,
I could tell at first glance this was no Santa—not easy.
For there stood a man with a briefcase of tricks,
And a smirk that said, “I sell $9 breadsticks.”
“Who are you?” I shouted, “Why come here tonight?”
He bellowed, “I’m Inflation! I give wallets fright!
I’ve hiked up your gas and your groceries too,
Your rent’s gone up double—what else could I do?”
Then faster than Congress can argue and stall,
He started to chant his unholy roll call:
“Now Gas Bills! Now Electric! Now Rent! That’s Insane!
On Daycare! On Housing! On Outrageous Champagne!
To the depths of despair! To the credit card max!
Now empty your savings, let’s pile on the tax!”
I screamed in frustration, “This cannot go on!
We can’t afford socks or the name-brand, Dijon!”
But he just kept laughing, “You signed up for this game!
It’s called capitalism; the rules never change.”
And just when I thought it could not get much worse,
He pulled out his phone and demanded a purse.
“Your money is gone,” he said with a wink,
“But don’t worry, there’s credit—just click this link!”
He left with a flourish, his coat made of mink,
And a warning: “Don’t save—spend faster than you think!
And remember, my friend, though this all feels quite grim,
You’ll have nothing to lose but your gym membership whim!”
So I slumped on the couch, defeated and sore,
As Mom stared sadly at our busted front door.
But I heard him shout loud as he drove out of sight:
“Happy broke lives to all! You’ll owe more by tonight!”
Well, there you have it, folks—an ode to the modern-day holiday struggle. Inflation might not fit under the tree, but it sure does weigh down our spirits and wallets alike. But fear not, for laughter, as always, is our secret weapon against the absurdity of it all. So, as you clip coupons, dodge delivery fees, and debate whether generic cookies still count as festive, remember that the true gift this season is finding joy in the madness. And hey, if you can’t afford joy, at least sarcasm is still on sale.
About The Author
Great writing! And funny!
Why, thank you! Walter always strives for “great”. His original goal was “adequate and mildly amusing,” but you’ve raised his bar. Funny, you say? We aim for the kind of laughter that makes people forget the price of eggs for at least 30 seconds. Stick around; there’s plenty more satire where that came from—just don’t tell our creditors, or they’ll try to repossess our punchlines. Be sure to share the laughter, and don’t forget to subscribe to The Wink Report Insider for your inbox.