’Twas the day after Christmas, when all through the house, not a package was unopened, not even the ____ (popular drugstore item).

The ____ (ecofriendly material) wrapping discarded, the receipts in a bunch. The biggest hit was the ____ (boxed wine brand) you slipped into the punch.

But the puff-paint ____ (mammal) sweatshirts? The ornament pin? You’d rather have ____ (childhood illness) than wear those again.

From ____ (boutique) in Buckhead, to ____ (chain store) in Cobb, weary associates cringed with thoughts of return-exchange mobs.

On the phone with ____ (last pal to poke you on Facebook), you plan your New Year’s, and hope for nice bubbly rather than warm, flat ____ (ingestible liquid). A kiss from your lover — not ____ (Rob Schneider character) — would be nice. And incentive for dropping that pesky ____ (stinky personal habit) vice.

Festivities, your fam, belting ____ (holiday song), you’ll miss. Still, your ____ (alternative lifestyle) will now go un-boo’d, -mocked, and -hissed.

Their harried return flights will crisscross the map. Shout ____ (expletive)! And ____ (another one)! Put some ____ (taboo relaxation method of choice) on tap.

Happy holidays to all.

And to all, a good nap.