Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
That's What She Said
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Sunday
Dec252005

'Twas The Night Before Christmas (In New York City)



'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the station
Not a manager in sight, tonight - liberation!
The time cards were padded with overtime and lies
In hopes that paychecks would be of great size
My husband is at home nestled in bed
While I write the news, wishing I were dead
And Vanessa at her desk, and I in my chair,
Had just settled down to write news with flair,
When out in the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Despite in my system, a cigarette's worth of hash
The moon shown down, illuminating the street
Where I watched a man and the woman he did beat
As my wondering eyes watched this abuser
An ambulance arrived followed by a police cruiser
With a driver of black, face filled with disbelief
I knew in a moment he must be police chief
More rapid than eagles his back up they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Johnson! Now, Chavez! Now, Gleason and Gibson!
On, Stone! On McKenzie! On Jameson and Brisbon!
To the top of the sidewalk! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
So up to the criminal the back up they ran,
With guns drawn and bullhorns they made their stand
And then, in a twinkling, I heard from the street
A hail of gunfire that made the crook obsolete
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the suspect fell and hit the cement with a pound.
He was ragged and bloody, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of drugs did fall from his pack...
Contraband like cocaine, heroine and crack,
His eyes -- how they rolled! his tongue how it lolled!
His cheeks were like leather, his head it was bald!
From his chapped little mouth the drool did flow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a crack pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a creased face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he convulsed like a bowlful of jelly
His hair was unkept, he was a right mangy guy,
And I flinched when I saw that soon he would die
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon let me know the fellow was dead;
I spoke not a word, but went straight back to work,
And wrote all the news, no duty did I shirk,
When I went back to the window for a peek,
The cop tipped his cap, why, what cheek!;
He sprang to his car, to his men gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he sat right and erect,
"Happy Holidays to all, from those who serve and protect!"

Reader Comments (4)

awesome.
December 25, 2005 | Unregistered Commenterjenny
Absolutely brilliant. I've read it twice and laughed both times. Too funny
December 26, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterJAY
wow. this is really good. I enjoy reading your work.

janet
December 26, 2005 | Unregistered Commenterjls
Very nice.
December 27, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterHoopla

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