The Avant-Gardist: Twas the Week Before Christmas

Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The pot was boiling in the kitchen with care,
In hopes that Stag Dining Group soon would be there;
The guests were nestled all snug in their trendy attire,
While visions of glazed pork bells danced in their desires;
My Canon DSLR in my pouch, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on Parnassus there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a dash,
Adjusting the shutter speed and turning on my flash.
The moon’s reflection on the new-fallen rain,
Lit up the drops on my window pane.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a van, and five sartorially dressed men-deer,
I knew in a moment it must be Stag Dining,
More rapid than eagles the coursers they came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called off their names;
“Now, Jorden Grosser, now, Ted Fleury! now, Anil Margsahayam!
On, Emory Al-Imam, On Matthew Homyak!”
To the top of the porch! To the top stairs!
“Now dine away! Dine away! Dine away all!”

So up to the Second-Floor the coursers they flew,
With the hands full of plates, and a feast too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the kitchen
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Out the door Stag Dining Group came with a bound!
They were dressed all in suspenders and slacks,
And their appeal sparkling polished and waxed;
A banquette of courses they flung on their backs,
To serve us a six course meal unyielding of any words.
My eyes — how they twinkled! Their almond milk panna cotta, how merry!
Their stories of were like roses, to build relationships over courses!
My droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
When the chefs came out brandishing their ho ho hos;

As the night carried on, a folks a chattered,
Leaving me with thoughts of what mattered.
The fashion was favored, the food was flawless,
Stag Dining Group, y’all are ballers!

-G, The Avant-Gardist