T'was the Night Before Thanksgiving

Every year during the nablahuwachamacallit, I end up submitting a post on Katie's blog on or around Thanksgiving.  Well, here goes.

T'was the night before Thanksgiving. T'were really--all around the house.
Pies were baking in the oven and my wife was wearing a blouse.
In the air hung the smell of pumpkin, nutmeg, and spice.
I hoped tomorrow would come soon, eating pie is oh so nice.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds.
I better stop plagiarizing, or on the morn I may be dead...s.
At this point both my wife and I should be dressed for a long fall's nap
But neither my wife has a kerchief, nor do I have a cap.

When up in the kitchen the pots and pans clattered,
I ran up the stairs to see what had shattered.
A dish was all broken to pieces, strewn all about
I took up the broom when my wife began to shout.

"I'd prefer to clean up that mess from up off the floor,
You can wash the dishes; you said you liked to, sort of...before."
So, I dashed to the sink, took up the soap and a rag
And cleaned all the dishes, the garbage disposal made me gag.

By now, the pies were done baking. The aroma was still there.
My wife was now on the couch reading, all without a care.
I took out the pies from their warm oven nest
Placed them on the cooling rack, screamed, pulled my hands to my breast.

The crust shriveled 'neath the pumpkin custard--like the wicked old witch
When my wife saw the matter, her eyelids began to twitch.
"What in the world has happened? What did you do?
We'll have to start all over, these pies look like poo."

"Go, run to Costco, buy one of their pies,
A mess such as this, I could never disguise.
I can't take this pie to your family's Thanksgiving supper
Your mother will think me foolish, a bakery blubber."

I replied in haste, "The pies will be fine.
We'll just bake another, on which we can dine."
"Anyway, it isn't the cover of the book that we read,
but the words in the middle, on which we do feed."

"Your pies are delicious, I know them to be so,
I eat them a plenty! Watch my mid-section grow.
This Thanksgiving squash pie smells great but may look like poo,
but I know it will be delicious, cause it was made by you.

I love you, Katie.

Love, Jerry

P.S. I know you were really wearing a sweater, but it didn't fit this time.