T’was the night before Christmas and all through the office, not a manger was stirring, because all the services were flawless. The uniforms were hung on the racks with such care, in hopes that Cintas would soon be there.
The technicians were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of broken alternators danced in their heads. The boss with his toque and his wife with her cap, had just settled in for a little wee nap.
When out from the bosses cell a rose such a chatter, that he jumped up to see what was the matter. Away from the bed he flew in a flash, he yelled, “I am sorry, I really must dash.”
As the van drove through the fallen fresh snow, the tires gave way to the asphalt below. And what to his wondering eye should appear, but a grumpy old man with eight broken John Deere.
He snorted and shouted and called the tractors by name;
“off Dusty, off Musty, off Lusty and Moe
now Larry, now Barry, now Karry and Joe,”
to the top of the floor and the bottom of the shop, they will all sit tightly in a very small spot.
He looked at the boss and smiled with a grin, ” good luck to ya sir, you have fun with that tin!” The boss turned around to look in the shop, he pulled the door until it did stop.
Then he locked up the tractors and cracked open a beer, muttered to himself, ” we’ll do it next year.” He smiled to himself and rose to his truck, “Merry Christmas to all and to all best of luck!”