'Twas five days before Christmas and guess what, I was stranded.
Thank goodness in the distance, I saw that Santa had landed.
Hey Santa, could you please give me a lift?
I don't know any magic, and I'm stuck in this drift.
I need to get to the PT office just as soon as I can,
Can you help me, dear Santa - come on, you're the man.
He said in a deep voice, "Hop aboard, I'm going that way,"
I need to check my naughty and nice list in Storm Lake today.
He held out his hand and I climbed in the sleigh,
And into the sky the reindeer did fly.
I told Santa that the PT staff has been quite jolly.
I think it's a sugar high from all the sweets brought in, by golly.
The special treatment will spoil us.
After the new year comes in,
we'll be heading to the gym 'cause we couldn't stop the binge.
I told Santa I'd like to see him bring gifts for the newspaper staff,
And I read from a list I'd made, on a Honey Kissed Pizza box, don't laugh.
I'm asking for a big pooch to sit on Trudy's forever cold feet,
(No heater in your office, missy, it blows fuses, not so neat.)
For typesetter Nic, anything to promote the Packers, anything yellow and green.
Ha! Mr. Vikings will try to kill me, bring me a cheese head to wear to protect my bean.
For Tracy in circulation, a few extra carriers; robots will do,
Recharge them at night , they'll be good as new.
For Jeannie, Reta and Vic, the super ad reps, new high top tennis shoes.
Saving their feet as they're always running to get the ads that are new.
For Tim, in production, a bongo drum for him to pound,
To beat to the tunes he plays with the "interesting" sound.
And to Sue, in production, too, ear plugs to wear,
To save her from going wacko and tearing out her hair.
For Lucy, who makes tear sheets, and gets her hands full of ink,
A big bottle of ink remover and a fancy new sink.
For Kari, only with us on Fridays,
We miss her when she's gone, bless us also on Mondays-Thursdays.
For sports editor Chris a clone of himself will do,
So he can get the pictures he needs at this game and that game, too.
For assistant editor Mike, who so loves to eat,
A year's supply of canned hash and Spam, that can't be beat.
And then there is Dana, the best editor there could be,
A vacation to Timbuktu without phones, computers, Chris, Mike or me!
For Bob Madsen, Mr. Santa, please bring him the loot,
(After all, he issues the raises, don't treat him like a newt.)
Before I knew it, we were nearing Storm Lake,
My lengthy wish list from me Santa did take.
He said he'd do the best that he could do,
And then he asked, "And what about you?"
What do you need? What do you want?
I can't forget you, my little croissant.
I thought for a moment then looked up at the sky,
Lowered my head and looked him in the eye.
Well, Santa, I said, I really don't know.
Surprise me with anything, but just no more snow.
My life is complete, with a great husband and kids,
My life would be better if you could lower my lipids.
The reindeer glided downward, and landed gently on the ground,
I stepped out of the sleigh, waved, and they slowly turned around.
And as the jolly old elf and reindeer floated out of sight,
I headed into the PT office smiling and full of delight.
I had a front page story to write on my flight with Santa and his deer,
Surely readers will doubt me, thinking I'd gotten into the Christmas cheer.
Merry Christmas to all. May all your Christmas wishes come true.
* Lorri Glawe, the news staff's favorite elf, can be reached at lglawe@ stormlakepilottribune.com