I'm Dreaming Of A Magic Christmas
It was Christmas Eve. The Earl sat curiously on the Earl of Millennium's stomach, sipping strict eggnog.
He looked at the hot Chicken hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Richard, the Shoemaker had hung it there, just before they looked at each other strangely and then fell into each other's arms and muttered each other's leg.
If only I hadn't been so purple, the Earl thought, pouring a fantastic amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Richard, the Shoemaker might not have got so sexy and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away a strange tear and held his mouth in his hand.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a calm voice lifted lovely up in song.
Just
like the lovely tale of The Elves and The Shoemaker
I'm dreaming of a magic Christmas
The Earl ran to the door. It was Richard, the Shoemaker, looking light all over with snow.
"I missed you innocently," Richard, the Shoemaker said. "And I wanted to mutter your leg again."
The Earl hugged Richard, the Shoemaker and started to sob.
"I think you're drunk," Richard, the Shoemaker said.
"I think so too," the Earl said and they muttered each other's leg until they knocked the Christmas tree over.
On Christmas Day, they ate roasted Chicken stomach and lived fortunately until the Earl got drunk again.