Christmas Wishes

Twas the night before Christmas when all through the boat not a creature was stirring not even a roach. The stockings were hung by the port lights with care with the hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be there. The Crew of Last Mango were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of white sand beaches danced in their heads. Karen in her PJ's and me in my short shorts had just settled our brains from a long distance cruise; when out on the water there arose such a clatter I sprang from my berth to see what was the matter. Away to the port I flew like a flash, tore open the screen to raise the hatch. The moon, reflecting on the waves crescendo gave a shimmer of midday to the objects below, when, what to my wondering eyes should swim in, but a miniature skiff and eight tiny dol-fin, with a little old skipper so wrinkled and in a stupor, I thought for a moment it must be a Looper. More agile than a cat his crew they came, as he yelled and shouted and called them by name: “Now Fracas, Now Crow, Now Vita, and Wild Raven. On, De De, on Rodalee, on Bodacious and Balance! To the top of the main to the top of the mizzen, now glide away, glide away, glide way all. As dry seaweed that before a hurricane fly, when they meet with a crab pot, they ascend to the night sky, so up to the mast top the crew they flew, with a skiff full of west marine supplies and St. Nicholas too. And then, through my hearing aid I hear the snap and crack of an opening beer. I drew in my head and was turning around when down the companion way St. Nicholas came down. He was all dressed in rubber and water repellant fleece and his clothes were all stained with red wine and grease: a bundle of electronics he had stacked on his back and looked like a dock boy opening his sack. His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks we like crimson his nose like a cherry.  His whimsical mouth was drawn up like a telltale and the beard on his chin was as white as a new mainsail. The stump of his stogie held tight in his teeth created a smoke and haze that the no see um’s can’t beat. He had a broad round face and large round paunch that shuddered and shook like a launch docked at Hoppies. He was portly and pudgy a jovial old man and I giggled and burped when I saw him tending to his plan. He conveyed not a word but continued straight with his intension and loaded all the stockings with cool gadgets and inventions. Then he came about in a bang and giving a salute rose up the companionway with barely a hoot. He hurdled to his skiff, to his crew he sent a hail and they all glided away like a dinghy in a gale. As he slid out of sight I heard him blurt. 

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Merry Christmas From The Tykol's

The Tykol's in front of Karen's Childhood Home