The O2BIrish Christmas Special #4

A (Too) Long Winter's Nap


It’s the week before Christmas. I fin’ly got home.

I turned on my laptop to write down this poem.

My programs are running the way that they should.

When I left the office, I felt rather good.

I looked in the fridge to find something to munch.

I found some burritos left over from lunch.

Those I stuck in the microwave, set it on “Zap”

After eating, I went for a long winter’s nap.


As I dreamed, there’s no visions of sugar-plums sweet.

I was back at the office, at work in my seat!

My PC was stuck on the Blue Screen of Death.

“Call desktop support!” I said under my breath.


I called up the help line for help, but alas,

Who I got was some kid in an algebra class.

I sent out a ticket, but some crazy elf

Decided to route the thing back to myself.


Then a veep at my firm left me clenching my teeth.

Gave my punch cards away for a new Christmas wreath.

Another made tweeks to a Powerpoint show.

When asked why the next day, he just didn’t know.


In moving a server, I sure wasn’t pleased.

An engineer mixed up his A’s and his B’s.

Another one wondered what some button did.

He shut down the plant. Now I’m flipping my lid!


Then I looked ‘round the office for cohorts. Instead

They looked like the Flintstones, both Wilma and Fred.

And Betty and Barney were working there too.

But they had other names when outside of our zoo.


Then two beauties showed up and they started to dance.

As I stood there watching, I fell in a trance.

I knew turning me on was their ultimate goal

While seductively doing their spins on a pole.


But as quick as they came, the two then disappeared

And things turned so suddenly tragic’ly weird.

What I saw made me feel like my cookies I’d toss

For there dancing before me appeared JIM THE BOSS.


I kept telling myself that this vision’s so wrong.

I could tell it was Friday; he’s wearing a thong.

The scene was so awful, confusing and scary.

There’s two cheeks protruding, all pimpled and hairy.


My head started pounding along with the beat.

I started to sweat, and it wasn’t from heat!

My stomach felt nauseous. I wanted to calm it.

The back of my throat started tasting like vomit.


It’s this type of scene that I really despise.

I knew that needed to gouge out my eyes!

So I drew up my nerve, to my eyes gave a poke.

It was thankfully just at this time I awoke.


“Twas a dream!” I exclaimed, “Not a bit of it’s true!”

As I looked in the mirror at eyes black and blue.

My mind played on me an insidious prank.

What I dreamt were all visions I got from The Tank.


There were clueless consultants and bungling bosses

And those useless users with memory losses.

Each story each day to a poem I’d convert.

And I managed to win yet another Tank shirt.


There’s one vital lesson I got through my head:

I can’t eat burritos ‘fore going to bed.

Though some things that I saw were a bit out of whack,

Could there be any way I could get those girls back?