Twas the Night Before Christmas: Abridged, with More Blood.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except for the twelve year old creeping down the hall; quiet as a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that our parents masquerading as St Nicholas soon would be there.

My parents were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of morning mugs of coffee danced in their heads.
And mamma in her nightie unaware she would would soon have to deal with my crap,
Had just settled her brain for a long winter’s nap.

When inside the bathroom arose such a cry,
She sprang from the bed to see why.
Away to the cabinet I flew like a flash,
Tore open the pads and threw the wrapper in the trash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to mom’s wondering eyes should appear,
Her young daughter looking in fear.

With a brown stain upon her underwear,
She knew in a moment with a soft swear.
More rapid than eagles her period it came,
And mom whispered and called her daughter’s name!

“Now baby, don’t cry! You simply begun to menstruate!
Oh baby, we can get you a pad if you don’t want a tampon to penetrate!
To the stain remover, to the washer!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away and it won’t be a bother!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
They ran so fast they might take to the sky.
So straight to the laundry room they flew,
With the basket full of soap, and stain remover too.