The Last Hit Of 2010

The stocking was hung on the front door with dare
With hopes that Mr. Hankey soon will be there
My diet had been recently high in fiber
So my stocking would be filled by the late Avery Schreiber
I rushed downstairs on Christmas morning
So fast that I did not heed my cat's warning
Slipping in hairballs hocked up overnight
As part of some feline cleaning ritual rite
Washing my foot in the tub couldn't erase my smile
Even though the job was quite vile
Clean as a whistle and soon I was off
Pausing only to listen to my father's smoker cough
I spotted my stocking with glee
Imagining what wonders inside will be
There were many packs of baseball cards
Topps and Obak were met with warm regards
Lottery scratch offs turned out to be a bust
Making me question the State of Illinois' trust
Odd little candies sprinkled among the loot
At the end of the stocking was the obligatory fruit
Something made me think of Ned Beatty
As a code card produced a checklist from 1980
In the last pack of Topps, finally a hit
But the ex-Sox player pictured made me feel like...