Our family celebrations begin on the evening of the 23rd, so as things prepare to get rolling here in the Great Midwest, I bid the warmest of Christmas wishes to any and all who stumble upon this. Joy to the World, and all that.
The Ballad of Dr. Biff McSparkland
‘Twas the night before Christmas and on Santa’s sleigh
Was a jolly old man who had lost his way.
In the skies over New York there had been a great flash
Then into Rudolph’s side, a meteorite did crash.
The collision knocked out his nose of red light
Leaving him helpless to navigate this flight.
The sleigh then began to tumble and pitch
Leaving Santa to mumble “Son of a …Kringle!”
“Rudolph is hurt, he’s ruptured his spleen
Gotta find a place to land this thing!”
Far below Santa, a man drove alone;
Dr. Biff McSparkland, on his way home.
With no family or friends, he’d no plans the next day.
So after a night of sleep, he’d work Christmas away
At the hospital ER, tending to sickness and wounds,
And griping endlessly about cheesy Christmas tunes.
(Biff was unhappy and needed a change
But that’s a story for a time less strange.)
So on the road he drove, when he heard a great roar.
Great, he thought, another accident, no more!
Santa had landed his sleigh in a field.
(Remarkably without losing any of his great yield.)
Poor Rudolph lay on his side in great pain
For the space rock had caused much more than a sprain.
Santa, grief stricken, yelled “Now what do I do?
I can’t possibly treat such a large boo-boo!
Christmas is ruined! Oh those poor girls and boys!
And what will I do with all these toys?”
It was at this time that Dr. McSparkland arrived
And looking at Santa, said “what’s all this jive?
I heard your crash, is everyone all right?
And why are you wearing that? Your coat is too tight!”
Santa replied “We hit trouble over Schenectady!
And I fear poor Rudolph needs a spleenectomy!”
It hit Biff then, just how much he was needed.
“I’m a doctor,” he said. “Then help him!” Santa pleaded.
Biff did his thing, and Rudolph recovered.
(Minus one organ, but no less discovered.)
Next morning the toys were under the tree
While Santa, back home, remembered with glee
His pal, Dr. Biff, who had saved the day.
Next year he’d reward him in some special way.
Meanwhile Biff had gone home and rested,
then rose a little early, gone to the kitchen and tested
A new recipe that he had thought of last night
When he placed a small package in the fridge by the light.
So at work Christmas Day, Biff shared with his team
A new holiday tradition, the Roast Christmas Deer Spleen!