The employees were groggy, roused early from bed,
And wished that consumers would all just drop dead.
So I in my sweater and jacket and shoes,
Was wrought with a case of post-holiday blues.

When from the front door there arose such a clatter,
I put down my latté to see what was the matter.
Our store was not open, our music was quiet,
But outside the shoppers were ready to riot.

The doors were unlocked, the people came in.
“How can we help you?” we said with a grin.
When what should my pitiful eyes then view,
An old woman, the size and the shape of Shamu.

With her multiple chins, so round and so grand,
I barely but noticed the bag in her hand.
“I want cash for this, this gift doesn’t hack it.”
And out of her bag comes an extra small jacket.

“Alrighty” I said, hoping this short and sweet,
“Now all that I need is to get your receipt”.
“I have no receipt, this here was a gift”.
From the sound of her voice I could tell she was miffed.

“I’m sorry” I said, with a big Colgate smile,
You’re welcome to dig through this big clothing pile.”
“I don’t want an exchange, don’t you see what I’m saying?”
I could tell she was angry, her spittle was spraying.

“This is insane, your policy sucks,
All that I want is a few measly bucks.
What if I took it right out of your pay,
How would that feel, then what would you say?”

I smiled and I smirked till I could take it no more,
And said…

“Merry Christmas to you, you fat slimy whore.”