‘Twas the night before Thanksgiving when all through the bar,

not a creature was sober, y’all know who you are.

The stocking caps hung off their heads just so;

they clung to sweet skulls that bobbed to and fro.

Adult children were nestled and warm in such buntings;

that kept frosty winds off of these gaunt 20somethings.

While visions of Sugar Ray danced in their heads;

we knew that the ‘90s would never be dead.

And I in my flannel, and Brad his moustache,

rolled our eyes at the jukebox that blasted The Clash.

When out in the alley there arose such a clatter;

I sprang from my booth to see what was the matter.

Blue Moons on the bar did not have me tempted;

and I hastened to exit the talk of who rented.

The alley was dank; the smell of urine, it carried.

But I preferred it to hearing of who’s getting married.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

but a turkey-headed body holding a beer.

I knew in an instant he was not of the living;

I was standing in front of the ghost of Thanksgiving.

His body was tall and his head was basted;

part of me wondered just how good he tasted.

He whistled for the goblins who took care of his crap;

each carried a side dish and the name of an app.

“Now, Twitter! Now Tumblr! Now Facebook—please rush!

On Snapchat, OkCupid, Instagram, Candy Crush!”

They piled green beans and yams on my lap;

the ghost of Thanksgiving had brought me a snack.

He then sat down and told me his story;

of how November eating holidays were stripped of their glory.

“People forget just how good pumpkin can be;

when it’s baked in a pie and not spiced, or slutty.

And Christmas is fine, but there’s plenty of time;

why not just relax and drink far too much wine?”

He told me he couldn’t complain to his peers;

that Valentine’s Day refused to alternate years.

So he was stuck in this spot and for him no one rooted;

because most holidays thought he was just spoiled or stupid.

I told him that I knew many his equal;

for Millennials are the Thanksgivings of people.

Despite all of this, he’d concocted a plan,

to speak straight to the public because they’d understand.

“Stop Christmas shopping! Stop eating old candy;

give thanks and eat dinner and drink lots of brandy!

Don’t celebrate seasons premature or too late;

or you’ll miss out on something that is truly great.”

He thought of a way to tell them that’d work;

then had his goblins hit every social network.

I told him that I would aid in his cause;

and I’d always preferred him to that dick, Santa Claus.

He listened and nodded, then told me to go;

and spread his turkey-faced message like a viral video.

Suddenly, the alleyway filled up with gravy;

then an armada appeared, a true porcelain navy.

He called one more time for his goblins to roost;

then herded them onto his gravy boat with a boost.

And I heard him exclaim as he tried not to fall—

“Float away, float away, float away LOL!!!”