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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/409337
by Shaara
Rated: 13+ · Book · Romance/Love · #871476
Love is precious, but it's also difficult, and it has it moments of insanity.
#409337 added November 1, 2011 at 12:03am
Restrictions: None
The Unwelcome Christmas Exchange
The following is a Writer's Cramp
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The Writer's Cramp  (13+)
Write the best story or poem in 24 hours or less and win 10K GPs!
#333655 by Sophy
prompt: Since the holidays are near write me a poem or story based on pollyanna gift giving. Tell me about having to buy a gift for a family member or a co-worker that you just can't stand. Be creative and good luck!




The Unwelcome Gift Exchange





I couldn’t believe I’d had the bad luck to pick her.
Why did my fingers not freeze and instantly see,
That the card belonged to happiness’ saboteur,
That rotten autocrat, the infamous McBree.

We’d each hung a number on a decoration for the tree,
Then chose, and were told whose we had picked,
Bad luck was mine; I got the horrid McBree,
Our company’s worst, most despicable lunatic.

Everyone left then. They all scurried away,
Contented they were with their fortunate choice,
While I lingered long in agony and dismay,
Sick with a dread that I could not voice.

What should I purchase for Jessie McBree:
A witch hat, a broom, a giant black cat?
What does one buy the office's banshee,
The eavesdropping bat, our boss’ chief rat?

I slammed down my briefcase, refusing to go.
Why pick on me? Why was I chosen for this?
Why hadn’t I simply yelled, “Sorry, but NO!”
Yet, now to be giftless would make me remiss.

I threw on my coat, set out for the mall,
Thinking I’d pick up the first thing I found.
But then I saw clearly her ugly, blue shawl
With her in a heap, down there on the ground.

“What’s wrong?” I asked with considerable worry.
She tried to be strong, to rise and escape me,
But couldn’t stand up for the snowflakes' flurry
Had left slippery puddles under Jessie McBree.

She wailed in alarm, then moaned once out loud.
So I picked her up gently, and carried her inside.
Her eyes minus glasses were wondrous and proud.
I kissed her cute nose and once more for Christmastide.

I guess you can see that my thoughts had been wrong,
Jessie McBree really wasn’t a snitch, bitch, or witch.
Why had we thought that, not letting her belong?
But all will change since I found her in that ditch.

We shopped for the gifts, then, and had so much fun.
For Arnold she bought mittens, the kind that are nice.
I purchased a bracelet that said, “You're the one,”
And for next year I've hopes for a showering of rice.





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© Copyright 2011 Shaara (UN: shaara at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Shaara has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/409337