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Celebrity Gossip from Liz Smith

T'was the night of Thanksgiving, but I just couldn't sleep.

I tried counting backwards, I tried counting sheep.

The leftovers beckoned -- the dark meat and white.

But I fought the temptation with all of my might.

Tossing and turning with anticipation, the thought of a snack became infatuation.

So I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door and gazed at the fridge, full of goodies galore.

I gobbled up turkey and cold, buttered potatoes, pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.

I felt myself swelling, so plump and so round, 'til all of a sudden, I rose off the ground.

I crashed through the ceiling floating into the sky with a mouthful of pudding and handful of pie.

But I managed to yell, as I soared past the trees, "Happy eating to all; pass the cranberries, please!"

May your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump.

May your potatoes and gravy have nary a lump.

May your yams be delicious, may your pies take the prize.

May your Thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs.

(E-mail Liz Smith at MES3838@aol.com.)


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