Last Call For Egg Nog (A Year-Closing Epic)

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Open Poetry #39

Last Call For Egg Nog (A Year-Closing Epic)

Mistletoe Angel

Member Empyrean

since 2000-12-17

Posts 32816
Portland, Oregon

0 posted 2006-12-31 06:08 AM

(This year, I'm starting a new tradition where the last poem I write every year is an epic, each one longer and perhaps more ridiculous than the last!

Here's mine for 2006, all about the incredible quest for a carton of egg nog after New Years Day! LOL! Enjoy! )

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Last Call For Egg Nog
By: Noah Eaton
12/31/06

Way far back as I can remember,
there’s only one treat that nightcaps the holidays,
no, I’m not talking about plum pudding,
nor gingerbread with spiced crème anglaise,
pignalatta, I love you a whole lotta,
sweet noodle pineapple kugel gets me panting,
like an Eskimo dog,
yet still there’s nothing that rings in the new year,
like a tall cold glass of egg nog.

Yep, every morning I soak my French toast sticks in it,
and every night I bake it into a crème brulee,
I even soak a baseball in it during my lil’ boys game,
so he can run away each squeeze play,
it’s the only beverage where I disregard,
all its calorie-ridden, 6% butterfat guilty pleasures,
but alas, New Years Day has just drifted away,
so this will call for desperate measures.

So I put on my Kahlua Black Russian Pie hat,
and my dense globe artichoke overcoat,
slipped on my molasses mint salt water taffy scarf,
and rushed out toward the pier to my gravy boat,
motoring my way toward Jantzen Beach,
on urgent errand to Chin’s Import Grocer,
where I swear I could taste the nutmeg increasingly,
every centimeter that I drew closer.

And along the way a random thought filled my head,
that has plagued me since I was 3 7/8 years old,
the mother of all unsolved mysteries,
the impeccable conspiracy theory tenfold,
a question that’s long left me arsy-varsy,
blares between my ears like a tetchy French horn:
Why are boxes of Wheat Chex cereal,
smaller than their siblings Rice and Corn?

I mean, c’mon now, this is downright dippy,
they weigh five ounces less for crying out loud,
yet everyone knows wheat Chex squares taste best,
in every batch of Chex Mix hands down,
I mean the Worcestershire sauce is literally married,
to wheat Chex like Percy and Florence Arrowsmith,
whereas with both Corn & Rice,
they’re just sideshows from the pith.

Speaking of which, what’s all the fuss about Rice anyway,
that Chex is lacking of sapidity,
I mean, I can eat a bowl of both Wheat & Corn,
during the holiday off-season effortlessly,
but with Rice Chex & milk not even two lumps of sugar,
can atone for that imperial cereal’s unimaginative taste,
hey, that reminds me, whatever happened to Oat Chex,
they just came and bid good day in haste…

…um, hey, where was I again,
sorry, my mind tends to go wide distantly astray…
…um, well, anyway, seriously,
Wheat Chex is long overdue for a 21 ounce upgrade,
and Rice Chex is extraordinarily underrated,
they’re like the Rachael Ray of breakfast,
their size should be reduced from 21 to 16 ounces,
or just zhuzzh it up a little bit, I insist!

So, anyway, eventually I reached Hayden Island,
and ran straight down North Menzies Drive,
running through the Jantzen Beach RV Park,
where the Polar Bear Posse were taking five,
power diving toward Chin’s Import,
my mouth as dry as a bandicoot on a burnt ridge,
searching wildly for my egg, sugar and allspice interfusion,
to light up my humble fridge.

I stampeded through the front door,
like a rat scampering up a tail pipe,
straight down Aisle 17,
appearing Olympian but hardly the athletic type,
but once I got to the dairy corner,
oh, the horror, the horror,
the sight of no egg nog in any size, shape or form,
ate my spirits up like a corn borer.

The way I see it, only one option was remaining,
and that was to consult the manager,
perhaps they had some egg nog shipments in storage,
that they intend to have deferred,
so I went up and coaxed politely,
the manager named Vieng Lao,
and asked him, “Do you have any egg nog,
in your inventory right now?”

And then, get this, suddenly Vieng Lao,
uncontrollably began to chuckle,
cachinnating like a kookaburra on eucalyptus,
mercilessly so that his belt buckle ruckled,
then he yammered, “Hey, my child,
were you born on a Viking ship?
Firstly, no one sells egg nog after New Years Day,
and secondly, this is a Chinese grocer, Artichoke Dip!”

Then, as if I already was ridiculed enough,
Vieng Lao proclaims with deepest inflection,
“Hey everyone, this taffy-scarfed milquetoast,
is foraging for a carton of that egg nog confection!”
Then everyone started laughing with him,
pointing their fingers at me in schools and swarms,
it was then I knew I never felt so dissed,
and felt as dirty as a mud fence in a rainstorm.

Then my voice, subdued and quavering,
said, “Hey, I don’t want this to seem like a stunt,
I for one wish we could store some Christmas spirit,
in jars and open a jar of it every month.
For isn’t Christmas all about fulfilling,
the greatest hunger of humanity,
and to me there’s nothing more quintessential,
then hailing the spirit with soft-served vitality!

And you see, the only reason I came here,
was that this year is the Year of the Rooster,
so I thought I’d shake things up this time around,
and go with a Chinese egg nog morale booster,
in your culture don’t you serve it warm,
with streaks of ginseng and ashwaganda,
and mixed with wasabi and dry star anise,
to get me in sync with my inner panda?”

Then suddenly Vieng Lao got all dewy-eyed,
impressed by my pocket-sized soliloquy,
suddenly rattling with more emotions,
than a shaking pistachio tree,
and feelingly responded, “Young artichoke,
we’d all dream to be as warm and idealistic as you,
unfortunately to many the holidays are not a state of mind,
who celebrate them for a month and then they’re through.

I wish you great fortune on your pilgrimage quest,
but sadly, I doubt egg nog’s current availability,
like the holidays it’s something that comes but once a year,
between January and November there’s no feasibility,
however, you’ve offered us a brilliant idea,
on inventing an Eastern twist to this bonne bouche,
so I offer you this Nian Gao, fresh from the bakery,
and deluxe Mah-Jongg set, crafted from rich bamboo.

So I thanked Vieng Lao and left the store,
stuffing my face with their New Years Cake,
but as delicious as each mesmerizing morsel was,
I couldn’t wash it down with any given tea break,
so I pulled out a saucer sled from the RV Park,
and sped into downtown at breakneck speed,
determined to find one carton of egg nog,
even if it meant my knees would bleed.

I sped to every Whole Foods and New Seasons Market,
darted to and fro between various Trader Joes,
tobogganed into the African International Food Market,
and flew into Mock Crest Grocery like a carrion crow,
QFC, D&P, Lil’ Q, Circle K,
on all occasions my luck was DOA,
each Plaid Pantry was all cleared out,
and I was sleighed away with dismay at Safeway.

Then I realized, with my mind focused entirely on this task,
there were many chores I forgot to complete,
making sure the first footer was not red-haired,
filling up the cupboards with spinach beets and creamed wheat,
dancing in the open air, around each tree for thirty-seven blocks,
making sure no garbage is taken out till the second of this year,
tying a sprig of holly to each leg of my bedstead,
and eating black-eyed peas until they come out of my ears.

Anyway, though getting especially discouraged, I vowed,
I would get it if it meant buying it underground,
yet I was running low on options in the meantime,
and I was getting tired of all this milling around,
my throat was so parched I could begin to feel,
deep in my veins a dust bowl of cholesterol,
I felt as though I had been struck,
with nineteen shots of Pravachol.

Then all of a sudden a light bulb beamed in my head,
Clarity had finally come through all the sprawling,
putting together and hosting a Telethon,
on Portland Cable Access was my true calling
so I hopped aboard a landboat at Ross Island,
and coasted up Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard,
and made all my ambitious preparations,
and wrote out all of my cue cards.

After twelve minutes, the time had come,
to kick off this historic philanthropic enterprise,
ushering in a new generation of egg nog eggheads,
via this fundraiser which I devised,
So I said, “Ladies and gentlemen, today we’re gathered,
together for a very important cause…egg nog relief.
Imagine a world without this high cholesterol beverage,
for a whole forty-six consecutive weeks.

Thus we’re joined to have our voices heard,
to quench our livers and share the wealth,
whether as egg nog, rompope, coquito or Biersuppe,
we’re united as one, drinking to shorter health!
And now, without further to do,
we have prepared a night of great entertainment,
and we hope that you’ll each make a pledge,
supporting egg nog’s rightful permanent placement!”

Yep, the program was as full,
as a fairy’s phone book,
we had a family of chimps playing Twister,
and Silly Walk Idol spiced up with gobbledyguok,
an epic Dancing Hamster tournament,
a two-headed snake playing “Dueling Banjos” with their teeth,
we even talked Johnny Herlofsky,
into dropping in to brighten the children’s cheeks.

Oh, for a while all was going well,
I was skipping across the room in triumph,
but then all of a sudden the doors kicked open,
and my pride hit a rough speed bump,
then these party-crashers came and grabbed my arms,
saying, “Sir, please follow us,
we have a bunch of legal matters,
that are in urgent need to discuss”

So they took me to the backseat of a Radio Cab,
where sat the silhouette of a mysterious stranger,
I was soused in both cold sweats and hot sweats,
but somehow I didn’t feel I was in danger,
then a streetlight reflection gleamed across his face,
and it was just as I had thought,
and I said, “Holy Frances Oldham Helsey,
you’re Andrew von Eschenbach!”

“Indeed I am…”, Andrew replied to me,
“and I’ve devoted my life as you can see,
as a Clinical Research Distinguished Chair,
in Urologic Oncology.
That is why I am here, as I have concern,
regarding your yearly egg-nog martyrdom,
for as you’re well aware, the obesity endemic,
has been beating relentlessly like a snare drum!

You see, in every glass of egg nog,
there’s eleven grams of saturated fat,
that’s alone a whopping 60%,
of your recommended daily value as a matter of fact,
in addition, eight ounces of that beverage,
contains 320 calories,
more than a pina coloda,
it’s a diabetic shooting gallery!

That’s why at the FDA we understood the stakes,
and allow six weeks to this cacophonous consumption,
otherwise these rules shall never change,
as long as the office is under my assumption,
for all those coping with cardiovascular disease,
it is under my strict presumption,
that children of future generations,
will benefit from our gumption!

So what do you say you give up this silly game,
and consider some healthy alternative,
like hand-pressed apple cider,
or acai juice enriched with antioxidants?”
I said, “Nothing you make me say or do,
will discourage me of my egg nog swilling ways!
As an American I have the right,
to decide how I stuff my face!”

Then Andrew disappointingly shook his head,
and said, “I see you’ve made up your mind,
well all I can say is you’re setting a bad example,
for all young American lives,
and by the way, it was I as well,
who had your Wheat Chex re-sized,
now take this forsaken carton of globbety goop,
and get out of my sight!”

So with delight, I couldn’t believe my eyes,
gallivanting home in a Leg Lamp automobile,
now my will was unbreakable like Damascus steel,
flinging through my front door like a catherine wheel,
opening the flap and filling my glass,
with a smile no one could desecrate,
when suddenly I fainted in horror…
.
.
.
…the horror…
.
.
.
.
…the horror…
.
.
.
.
..at the sight of the expiration date…

"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other"

Mother Teresa

Enchantress
Member Empyrean

since 2001-08-14

Posts 35113
Canada eh.

1 posted 2006-12-31 06:33 PM

YAY!! Good one Noah!

All the best to you in 2007!!

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