‘Twas the day before Christmas, when through all of the
paddocks.
Not a
motor was idling, not even a single Cosworth “Lump” could be heard.
The garages were swept and tidied with care,
In hopes that Roger Penske soon would be there.
The mechanics were nestled all snug in their beds.
While visions of Championship bonuses danced in their heads. (Not to mention HULIO dreaming of what
might have been, if only he hadn't crashed over that 'Yump in Houston)
And
“Princess” in her negligee, (Or
was that her Cowboy Hat 'N swim suit?) Along with Paul Tracy in his crash bucket, had just settled
down for a quick tryst in the sack.
(Hey! I hear that Dan-Dan-Danickers' now available,
right Aaron? Likes guess that’s Not the Only fumble You’ve Made? Although I
hear Carter Comstock’s Dropped Danica too…)
When out
on the lawn there arose such a racket, ‘ol PT sprang from the bed to see what
“TAG, Suitcase Servia, Whiney Bags and Bad Bobby D’ were groaning about.
Away to
the window
The
smoke from between Sea Bass’s ears. Glistened like a smoke signal, without a
glow. When, what to PT’s wandering eyes should appear but a Ferrari ENZO
followed by an armada of Prancing Horses in tow.
The ENZO
was piloted by an ex-Formula 1 driver, still brutally quick.
That
More rapid than a grid full of Bridgestone alternate “soft rubber tyre’ Formula
1 chassis in “Qualie Two” light fuel tanks mode. The seven times World Champion
whistled and jeered, and called them by name;
Now,
Mika now, Coulthard! Now, Rubinoe and Ralfanso!
On,
Heinz-Harald! On Villeneuve! On Damion and
To the
front of the grid! To the head of the pack.
Now burn
rubber, burn rubber baby, burn rubber quick!
As tyre
tracks that leave ominous black streaks behind. While Herr Schumacher leaves
another competitor further behind!
So up to
the roof-top the Prancing Horses flew. With trunk loads of presents and Schuey
too. And then, came a banshee wail of the ENZO, high atop the roof.
The
revving and idling of each assorted Ferrari. As PT rubbed his hands. Down the
chimney Schuey forlornly came. He was dressed all in Scuderia Red, from his head
to his foot.
And his Nomex driver’s suit was all tarnished with ashes and soot.
an assortment of winning trophies, he’d stuffed into his back pack.
His eyes
-- how they twinkled! His rosy cheeks, how they glowed.
His hair
as always was perfect, (by Loreal…)
his jaw
like a chisel! His lips clenched in a mischievous smirk. As the smile was
reminiscent of a Cheshire cat.
The
remains of a Cuban cigar hung limply from his teeth. As clouds of Smoke
encircled Schuey's head like a wreath.
He had a
taunt face and washboard abs. that still showed his youthful physique when he
laughed at the dumbfounded PT. He was strong and fit as an ox, a festive and
jolly elf.
Thus Paul
could only laugh when he appeared
A wink
of his eye and a twist of his head. Soon gave
Before Messer
Chrome Horn could wipe away his astonishment, the famous German turned Quickly,
laying his finger aside of his nose. And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He
sprang to his idling ENZO, and to his waiting minions gave a whistle. And the
screeching of tortured Ferrari lumps could be heard as they burst away like
rocket ships! But ‘Ol PT heard Schumacher exclaim, as he power-slided out of
sight,
"Happy Holidays to all, and to all a good-night."
Merry Kringle Y'all!
Tomaso
(Originally written by Tomaso – December, 2007; last modified on 12/2/23)
