Mr. Redcoat: ‘Twas 13 Nights Before Christmas

‘Twas 13 nights before Christmas, when all through the City

Drunk Santas were stirring, sipping, and getting shitty;

Amateurs were imbibing with not a bit of a care,

We even witnessed one person fall off her chair.


Predators were prowling for prey to place snug in their beds,

While visions of getting it in danced in their devious heads;

And MoMo in her red pants, and Tasha in her red cap,

Had resolved to avoid any strangers’ unwelcome crap.


When in bar basement there arose such a clatter,

A specimen waved over Tasha to discuss the matter.

Away from the corner we walked in a flash,

To talk to these dudes surely looking to smash.


The near swoon of the beast or maybe call him a beau,

Gave Tasha the lustre of interest in this man-ho-ho-ho.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

Tasha’s specimen had a bearded friend sitting near.


Left with little options from the litter to pick,

I knew in a moment I had to talk to this dick.

Like verbal bullets words from my mouth soon came,

“I’m talking to you only because my friend is talking to yours; what is your name?”


He said, “You have bitch written on your forehead,” a mean little vixen,

But he bought me a drink to smooth over our mixing.

One drink then another, to the window to the wall,

We danced and conversed and overall had a ball.


As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

My interest was piqued in this guy.

With his British-accented banter on MoMo he grew,

Like most other boys, he was into me too.


And then, three times, he asked for my digits,

His persistence made clear he wanted to hit it.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

I said, ok, I’ll give my number to this hound.


He stands 6’3” from his head to his foot,

After extended conversation, I was not completely off put.

A few days later, to the City I went back,

We met for lunch, a tryst, a mid-day snack.


His eyes — how they twinkled! his smile how merry!

Our compatibility was almost involuntary.

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the Al Qaeda beard on his chin was as black as marred snow.


Two days later, before his trip, he wanted to meet,

He couldn’t get enough, he was smitten, how sweet.

At a lounge we rendezvoused in the Garden State,

It went off without a hitch; another decent date.


He was pleasant, articulate, and smart, far from an elf,

In fact, many things about him remind me of myself.

His grammar’s on point and there’re thoughts in his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.


Barrister vernacular, and his humor sometimes makes me smirk,

He’s perceptive and seemingly honest and not a huge jerk.

Unfortunately, upon his family, tragedy paid a visit,

So, promptly to London he had to purchase a ticket.


Through the tough time and distance around the planet,

We continued our talks covering the whole gamut.

The countdown was on until his return flight,

Happy specimen-slaying to all, and to all a goodnight!


UPDATE: Of course, he ended up being on the naughty list. Thanks for the trash.

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