DDC MERCHMAS, DAY 12: 



“Twas the twelfth night of DDC Merchmas,
While Spears was counting his vault of Eeeks,
Durbin was burping the cutest baby in Texas,
Vandersteen was DM’ing a guy named Fleeks.

Lary completed his third book after supper,
Barry was lost in a deep glade of bluegrass,
Tina was needling the space of Puget,
Clayton had Cadbury smeared on the ass…phalt.

Gail bellybanded all that needed bellybanding,
Bob Clark reflected on the rules of the game,
Eli Barrieau was totally the way to go,
And Barron van Deusen had the coolest name,

Some liked plain, some liked graph,
A couple lined lined, and a few reticule grid,
Ralph was concerned about fountain pen ink,
A Ph factor of 666 was scoffed at and forbid.

Kathacinno pondered the pad printing realms,
Kim Lathan was getting measurements for Mike,
Gary Varner poked a hole in that thang,
Dane smiled a sweet smile, that cute little tyke.

Some filled their covers with sketch and decal,
Others kept them pristine and perfectly clean,
Jason Bluike swaddled his in stitched leather,
Please remember the sweet smile of Pauline.

Tee Lock mused with the shelf of Jeff Springer,
Chelsea Enck traded with Zach Summers,
Brandon Morris traded with Teresa Bragg,
Each transaction delighted, free of bummers.

Macek was reliving his Butcher Orange moment,
Fulton was yellow with thick lines thickery,
Millar was solving the unsolvable Sudoko,
Matt Allan was frolicking with foil flickery.

Vandersteen was hanging a Heartland poster,
Thornton was busy scoring and trimming,
Mulvee was bartering with a cute critter,
Joey Guido’s zamms were really zimming.

While Bedell sniffed fumes from a scooter’s tank,
Jorgensen’s printing rig started to lag and lurch,
Jim studied the bloomers of Barry Lyndon,
Michele rewatched episode 417 of Broadchurch.

Mom Draplin was jamming some Jackson Browne,
Uncle Terry was talking about the traffic on 96,
Little sister Sarah was really missing her big brother,
Leigh’s latest crock of soup had the tastiest mix.

Smelling of rot, decay, worm and dirt,
Haunted with vim, vigor, stink and futz,
Rumbling and grumbling from the other side,
Ghastly reapers were coming for the Nuts.

A hand unearthed from the unknown beyond,
Lit by the light of a mean mugging moon,
Through the mist came one whispering murmur,
The Deadest prints will be arriving soon…