‘Twas so trite before Christmas, right there in the shop,
We all had gone silent, you could hear a pin drop;
The heavy doors locked, and the cage pulled in place,
Each of us with that tired look on our face;
A beer in my left hand, rum and ‘nog in my right,
I rose from my crate as someone turned on the lights;
The floor crew all looked at the boss, feeling raw;
He motioned to me, I’d been named the short straw,
The door rattled again, knock, bang, what a clatter,
I opened it slowly, said, “Hi, what’s the matter?”
A man was there next to the sign that said CLOSED,
“I need to come in for a bike,” he proposed.
I tried not to sigh as I opened the door,
And invited the stranger onto the floor,
“I require a thoughtful gift for my spouse…“
“…I’ll need it right now to take back to my house.“
“What sort of bike riding does your wife like to do?”
“She doesn’t, that’s why this will be such a bold coup!“
I asked him her height, anything to help me,
He motioned between five foot four and six three.
He suddenly spied a cruiser at the back,
“That’s perfect, but not beige, I want it in black!“
“It’s all that we have in a step-through three-speed,
She won’t want more gears on her new-to-bikes steed?”
With a shake of his head, he pulled out his plastic,
“I am certain this will be truly fantastic!“
Then exuberance dropped; he went a bit stale,
I had just pronounced, “Christmas Eve, final sale.”
With the bolt-check complete and payment put through,
I opened the door and smiled through a “Thank You.”
He tossed the new bike in the back of his truck,
Then waved a quick cheers, and called, “Wow, she’s in luck!”
So I relocked the doors and slid over the gate;
Recovered my booze and slumped down onto my crate,
With the lights dimmed, we all started to chortle;
Quite a long laugh before returning to normal,
Then silence eclipsed us, everyone thinking,
We sat a long time, no one even blinking,
A fresh case appeared, and we all grabbed a beer,
And somebody stood up and said, “TO US, CHEERS!”
Then a short while later, bundled for the cold,
I hopped on my bicycle, and homeward I rolled,
Blinky lights flashing as I pedaled from sight,
Hoping that her fresh bike would fit quite all right,
I’ve thought of this day every Christmas Eve since,
{A retail survivor, it still makes me wince,}
Was there even a tinge of bicycle glee,
When that ugly rig appeared under the tree?
These, totally unedited, photos of the magi kings of warranty {the apostles of JRA}, have nothing to do with the text above, but I happened upon them on my hard drive and felt they were seasonally shareable.
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