Christmas Open House Revenge

‘Twas the night before open house
at the minister’s abode.
The house needed updates.
Church members were told.

The curtains still hung
twenty years on the wall.
The carpet lay bare
where it ran down the hall.

The children shivered
and shook in the cold,
for the windows were cracked
and the furnace was old.

With preacher in long johns
and me in pink flannel
we turned on the TV
and just changed the channel

when up from the basement
we heard a commotion.
We sprang from the sofa
and set right in motion.

Away to the basement
we ran in our fright,
threw open the door
and flipped on the light.

And what to our eyes
did we then behold?
– A moving blob
of slimy green mold.

It crawled in the washer.
It crept up the dryer.
It rolled by the furnace
growing wider and higher.

It raced to the stairs
as if it was lightening.
We bolted the door;
it was so frightening.

Then into the kitchen,
right under the door,
it slipped in the house
and slimed the floor.

It slid through each room,
as if it could see
leaving the house
with gooey debris.

Then up on the table
it crept like a louse,
devouring the cookies
for my open house.

With hunger subsided
it rested all night,
and still hadn’t moved
with morning’s first light.

We slept on the counter
and stayed there all day
‘til the church folk arrived –
their visit to pay.

“You can’t live like this!”
they exclaimed one and all.
We’ll build a new house
and this time we won’t stall.

So into a new home
my family settled.
And I paid the slime man
for wares he had peddled.

Happy Holidays!