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The Week Before
Christmas |
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Twas the week before Christmas and all through the
Range Ops, no users were frantic, not even BMDOPS. The headsets
were hung on the consoles with care; no missions 'til January scheduled
in there.
Michael was working each day on this boat, hoping that Santa could make
the thing float. Al, in the midst of class data reduction, awaited
the coming of his tax deduction. Colonels Haddock and Jones
settled down for a nap, both needing reprieve from chasing the "flap".
Gail closed her safe to the new PSP's; Trina wrote to her Dad and typed
recipes. Penny, AL LeRoy, Jim, Joe and Max were takin' it easy,
tryin' to relax, and I in my green hat and funny brown shirt was crankin'
out lessons for old Leavenworth.
When out in a drive there arose such a clatter, I jumped from my desk to
see what was the matter. I jumped from my desk to see what was the
matter. Away to the doorway I flew in a flash, tripped over the
ashtray and fell with a crash. I crawled down the hallway to peer
out the door to see what was causing the din and uproar. The sun
glinting off the lagoon out behind roasted my eyeballs. I almost
went blind! When what did my bloodshot eyes finally see, but a
black and white truck full of Kentron PE's and a moccasin'd driver, no
hair on his head, I knew in a moment it must be old Ted.
About medium speed his courses they came. With exceptions and
caveats he called them by name, "Now Sweetland, LeMaster, and Ken
Jackson too, on Gruebner and Daly and sweet little Sue. Haul in
the champagne, break out the beer, get this place ready for holiday
cheer!" As the salt spray before the wild trade winds fly (which
rusts out your bike and gets in your eye), so into the conference room
they all flew to lay out the pupus and ice down the brew.
They turned down the lights and blew up balloons and mixed up the punch
- not any too soon! One sphere was inflated as sort of a joke.
it was silver and crinkley with nipples to poke. So we started to
party (it wasn't yet noon). We ate and drank and we poked the
balloon. Finally the eats and drinks all ran out. But Ted
told us all there was no need to pout, "This island is rmpant with
holiday cheer, you can eat and drink punch till you fall on your rear!"
So laying his finger aside of his nose, which was already red and
started to glow. He directed the rabble (though most couldn't see)
to Comm and Supply and to CDPC. Then on to Global, more parties I
fear, 'til finally they made it clear down to the pier. I thought
twas all over, they'd hit every one. They'd drunk themselves
stupid and had lots of fun, but I heard them shout as they staggered
from sight, "Meet at Al Greene's - Marguerites tonight!"
Authorized by Anthony (Tony) Mason (cpt. US Army),
KMR CCO, Dec 1978 |
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