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19th Dec 06
M. R. Sellars“Twas the Night Before Christmas, 21st Century Edition”
Copyright © 2006, M. R. Sellars
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse.
Her wet stockings were hung in the bathroom with care,
My razor was dull and full of her leg hair.
My wife was nestled all snug in our bed,
While visions of shoe sales danced in her head.
When out in the living room there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my keyboard to empty my bladder.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But some fat S.O.B. drinking my last beer.
His eyes were unfocused, and his cheeks were a-flush,
I could tell at a glance that Santa was a lush.
His knees how they wobbled as he finished with a slurp,
Then he got up from his chair and let out a burp!
“Hi there, young fella,” he said with a *hic*
“Best get outta my way, I think I’m gonna be sick!”
He rushed to the bathroom and I heard my wife scream,
Seems she was in there and didn’t think this too keen.
What was next to occur was kind of a shock,
I found her pummeling Santa with our new alarm clock!
“Hey honey, chill out!” I said with a start.
“Surely you don’t wanna kill the old fart!”
“Look lady,” Santa cried as he lurched and careened,
“I only got airsick ’cause I forgot my Dramamine!”
“So you’re NOT just some drunk?” I asked as he scratched his crotch.
“Of course not,” he replied, “But I WILL take a Scotch!”
“And to show there’re no hard feelings,” he chortled with glee,
“Tell me what is it you’d like to find under your tree.”
I took a sharp breath, and held it inside,
Santa you fool, you’d better run and hide.
You’ve asked the wrong question, instead of the right,
And now you’re gonna be here the rest of the night.
My wife’s eyes sparkled, teeth showing as she grinned,
And the next thing I knew she had the guy pinned!
Catalogs flew, and flyers they fluttered,
Creating immediately a large pile of clutter.
Santa couldn’t move and his eyes filled with fright,
Seeing her chance my redhead squealed with delight!
“Some diamonds and pearls, from this place and that!
Some pumps and some boots, and maybe a hat!”
She ran down her list in a voice filled with glee,
All I could think was “I’m glad it’s not me!”
Santa wriggled and squirmed as she sat on his chest,
Then he shouted and hollered, “Hey, give it a rest!”
But my wife wasn’t finished, that much I knew,
For she held that elf down and started anew.
“Sapphires and rubies, and rings of white gold,
I don’t even care if they’re new or they’re old!
A black leather jacket and a skirt that goes with it,
Matching gloves and a gift card that spends without limit!
A full length fur coat, synthetic of course,
Hey! Are you taking this down? Don’t make me use force!”
The old guy kept kicking, and somehow broke free,
How he managed to do so was way beyond me.
But my redhead was behind him as he sprang for the door,
While she screamed, “No, don’t leave now, for I want so much more!”
Santa ran through my yard as though he were scared,
And I can’t say I blamed him, for I doubted I’d be spared.
He hollered, as he raced, his words not too thrilling,
In fact I must say they were in all senses chilling.
With what he said, I had no choice but to agree,
For she was all wound up and he was leaving her with me.
Now here’s the last thing I heard, as he fled from this strife,
“I’d stay for that scotch, but I’m afraid of your wife!”
