’Twas the night before Christmas, and out in the yard,
My cooker was lightin’, my smoke wood was charred.
The briskets were seasoned and trimmed to perfection,
I had pumped them quite full with a flavor injection.
My wife had turned in and the dogs were asleep,
And the kids were upstairs in their beds, counting sheep.
I put on a jacket and grabbed two cigars,
And setup my lawn chair out under the stars.
From my neighbor's backyard, there arose an aroma,
A heavenly scent that near bowled me right over.
I ran to the fence, just as quick as a sprite,
To see what was causing this sensation delight.
A thin trail of smoke wafted out from his pit,
This man knew his stuff, his technique was legit.
His cooker was black, its round shape a real looker,
He was running the best, a Weber Smokey Mountain Cooker!
His smoker ran easy, his adjustments were few,
His brisket ranked up there with old Harry Soo.
He checked the temp gauge, and then gave it a tap,
And settled into his chair for a very long nap.
My cooker was choking, its airflow restricted,
The brisket might fail, as my wife had predicted.
I fussed with the ash pan, poked tongs in the fire,
Christmas dinner might come from a pizza supplier.
I poked and I prodded, I shook and I hollered,
The police, they got calls from a number of callers.
I got so frustrated, so down, so despaired,
That I shut the thing off and stomped upstairs to bed.
I awoke the next morning, my head in a flurry,
Started thinking 'bout dinner, oh boy, what a worry.
Pizza wasn't an option, the joints were all closed,
Looked like Christmas dinner would be ho-ho-ho-hosed.
When all of a sudden, it came loud and quick,
A knock at the door...it was jolly St. Nick!
He wore a red coat and a furry red cap,
And he came bearing gifts in a shiny red sack.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a large package,
A bright foil bundle that had been twice rewrappaged.
It was warm to the touch, and the smell was infectious,
It smelled like a smell that you'd smell down in Texas.
I opened the package, and to my surprise,
’Twas a beautiful brisket, tonight's dinner prize.
It turned out that Santa was someone I knew,
The guy from next door, I think his name's Lou.
He cooked that meat for me, as a Christmas day gift,
The Weber-smoked brisket that last night I'd sniffed.
"I know you have trouble with that smoker of yours,
"So I cooked this one for you, to make easy your chores."
I thanked him profusely, I shook his hand strongly,
And I gave him a hug for a little too longly.
Christmas dinner was saved, and the meat was a hit,
’Twas a meal that I know we will never forget.
So to all of you out there, here's a word of advice,
Be kind to your neighbors, they're really quite nice.
And if you can help them, in some small, kind way,
It will make you feel better, and you'll help make their day!
And as for my smoker, my cooker, my pit,
I have to admit that it's just not worth sh*t.
So get rid of that cooker, if it's not a Weber,
Buy a Smokey Mountain Cooker, it just works lots better.
--O--
Merry Christmas from The Virtual Weber Bullet - www.virtualweberbullet.com
© 2013 Chris A. Allingham LLC
