clement c

Clement Moore
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Starbucks Not a creature was stirring or causing a ruckus; The CDs were placed on the counter with care, In hopes that Clement Moore soon would be there; The baristas were busy arranging the breads; While visions of steaming milk danced in their heads; And the barista in her apron, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s chat, When out on the street there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter. Away to the counter I flew like a flash, Tore open the pastry case, knocked over the trash. The moon on the crest of the sidewalks and lights, Put espresso and lattes and scones in my sights, When what did my eyes see out the front door, But a miniature sleigh where there sat Clement Moore! Clement C. Moore went up to the counter, And he spoke in a voice that grew so much louder. More rapid than eagles his orders they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:  “Now, Lattes! now, Espresso! now, Teavana Iced Teas! On, Frappes! on, Cocoa! on, Eggnog lattes! To the end of the counter! to the seats by the wall! Now ventis! now grandes! now coffee for all!” As leaves that before the espresso machine fly, When they meet with soy milk, and mount to the sky; So up to the blenders the baristas they flew With cups full of coffee, and Clement Moore, too- And then, in a twinkling, I saw in a flash The drinks were all done with naught but a crash. As I drew in my head, and was just sitting down, Clement Moore walked up with a leap and a bound. He was dressed all in wool, from his feet to his vest, And he had Starbucks’ logo displayed on his chest, A bundle of drinks he held on a tray, And he looked like a barista just starting his day. His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!  His drinks filled our noses, his scone had a cherry!  His box full of muffins was drawn up with a bow,  And the whipped cream on his drink was as white as the snow;  The stump of a straw he held tight in his teeth,  And the juice had now covered the whole floor beneath;  He had a latte and a mug of cappuccino  That shook when he laughed, like the coast with El Niño.  He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old poet,  And I laughed when I saw him, though I was eating a donut;  A wink of his eye and a twist of his head  Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;  He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,  And bought all the CDs; then turned with a jerk,  And slurping the last of his huge cup of joe,  And giving a nod, out the door he did go;  He sprang to the sidewalk, to the barista he waved,  And about the great service he continued to rave. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of view—  “Happy Christmas to all, I bought coffee for you!”
Just to annoy @sugarkillsall:

@sugarkillsall
The concert was…special.
It wasn’t your first concert of one of your fabourite bands, flight of the conchords, but this one stood out especially since it was the smallest concert you’ve ever been to.
The band had rented a small concert room with only a few chairs for the guests to sit at, but you didn’t really care about sitting down.
Mainly because of him…
Jemaine.
Him and Bret have been singing all evening, all of your favourite songs, and they even sang their new song ‘sea gull’ just for the small audience to enjoy.
But that would not be the only reason what made this evening special.
Your eyes went off of Bret’s awesome piano skills and back to the other man.
And once more this day, your heart seemed to stand still, because he was looking straight at you.
“Oh shit! Why does he keep staring at me?? Is there something…wrong?”, you thought, worried about his quite unhappy frown.
He kept looking randomly at you all through the evening, until they were done playing their music and started saying their goodbyes.
You somehow wished he hadn’t looked at you like this all the time, because you spent most of the time thinking about his sad gaze instead of his comedic music.
“We…”, Jemaine looked over to you and sighed.
“We’re happy we could play for you… until next time…”
“Have a nice night!”, Bret cheered, happy with how everything had went.
You smiled, but your stomach had dropped whe Jemaine slowly went off stage and strutted over to the band room.
You knew you couldn’t stop yourself when you looked over to see Bret autographing some shirts and ordering some beer for a few groupies, so you decided to follow the other man.
You stopped in front of the door.
Should…should you just walk in? No, better knock, anything else would be rude…
You raise your hand, but just as you are about to hit the wooden door, it opens and you’re standing an inch away from a certain, scrubbly face.
“Ah!…” you startled, hastily jumping back as far as you can, trying not to make this even weirder.
His eyes widen a little bit at your sight, his frown quickly disappeared.
“Oh. It’s you…”
You chuckle nervoulsly.
“Yeah, me… the one you’ve been looking at like a sad sack for the past few hours! Mr. Clement, did… did I do something wrong?”
You were actually worried right now, since you’ve been the only one he’s looked at like this all evening.
He just smiled weakly and chuckled.
“I…was actually really sad because I thought you’d go away after the concert and I’d never get the chance… to tell you how much I adore your Tamatoa drawings.”
You felt pride and shock about his comment swell up in your chest, so he liked your art, but did that mean he’s seen ALL of what you’ve drawn so far? Some things were better off unseen by him…
“…but I think that you could youse even more practise.”
You raised an eyebrow at him, a bit confused by what he meant with this.
“You see”, he continued, “the character designers took some… huuuge inspirations by me and my personality, so I think…”
He paused and stretched out really slow, carefully peeking if you were looking at him.
Oh wow, you were. Just as much as you were red like a tomato right now.
A smug grin stole its way onto his lips and he got up.
“…maybe you’d like to take some more inspiration from me? Perhaps you like this pose…”
He flashed you his most bowie-esque look.
“Or this one…”
He came closer and looked at you with his most manly-yet-adorable pout… his face crept closer.
“But I think you’ll like this one the most,” his lips lingered on your ear and he whispered, “babe.”
He dashed away from you and swung back onto the sofa, positioning himself seductively and winked at you.
“I’ve read most of my fans like it when I say babe~”
___________________________
That’s all for now! ;D
Hope you enjoyed it!

2

Denslow’s Night Before Christmas (1902); pages 20 & 28.

From the de Grummond Children’s Literature Books collection.  Written by Clement C. Moore; created and illustrated by William Wallace [W.W.] Denslow in 1902. Published in Chicago by M.A. Donohue in 1902.                  


Banded Demoiselle (Calopteryx splendens)

…a brilliant species of broad-winged damselfly (Calopterygidae) which can be found throughout Eurasia from the Atlantic coast all the way to Lake Baikal and north-western China. It also occurs in the British Isles. Banded Demoiselles occur in many types of freshwater habitats, and are known to be particularly common in open running water bodies like streams and small rivers. Like all damselflies, banded demoiselles are predatory and will feed on a range of small flying insects. 

Classification

Animalia-Arthropoda-Insecta-Odonata-Zygoptera-Calopterygidae-Calopteryx-C. splendens

Image: Clement Bardot