Saturday, December 24, 2011

'Twas the Night Before Christmas: The Sequel

For the sake of background, read 'Twas the Night Before Christmas: Part One before continuing.
If you're from West Virginia, click here.


‘Twas the night before Christmas, this time I’m sure,
But even when sober, I can’t see its allure.
Last time I celebrated I was drunk off my ass,
And it is safe to say that I acted quite crass.

I mistook Trick-or-Treaters for mischievous elves,
And intimidated, I thought they depicted themselves,
As violent miscreants, and surprisingly brash.
They knew I had candy; they wanted my stash.

I caused quite a ruckus on Halloween of this year,
And as a result, promised the court I’d not drink so much beer.
So in my living room I sat, again watching TV,
And tried not to look at my sad Christmas tree.

It lacked decorations, and the branches did droop,
If I may just be blunt, the thing looked like…shit.
For whatever the reason I had no Christmas cheer,
And became quite irritable when December came near.

But just as I wallowed I heard such a sound,
That made me bolt upright, my heart started to pound.
From inside my chimney I heard a deep growl,
Like a ravenous, hungry wolf on the prowl.

Could that really be Santa? Those stories are fake…
But this feeling in my gut I just couldn’t shake.
I hoped that geezer wasn’t stuck in my chimney,
Because nothing fucking rhymes with that.

I grabbed a bat as I crept towards the flames;
I was not in the mood for these holiday games.
I could call the cops, but they’re not in my good graces,
Yet if this was for real, I’d love to see their faces.

The growling grew louder, and I called out to the sounds,
“Are you stuck up there, Fatty? How ‘bout you drop a few pounds!”
Through my house bangs then echoed, and fear gripped my soul,
Just what was he capable of? Was he out of control?

My imagination ran wild, just what would I do?
If he burst out the chimney and towards me he flew,
Had I made him angry? Was I now his prey?
I looked ‘round the room planning a quick getaway.

I tried to stay calm but the growls only grew deeper
And rattled my brain like a subwoofing speaker.
I ran towards the door, but the bangs again met my ears,
Kringle’s men blocked my exit, my eyes filled with tears.

I fell to the ground and a wept like a baby,
And recounted last year what I’d done with his lady.
I had strode through the mall and laid eyes on a beauty,
With a red coat, red cap, and one fine looking booty.

She said she’d not tell, be it reindeer or elf,
That secret of ours, she’d keep to herself.
But now with St. Nicholas so hot on my tracks,
I felt myself lose it, and I moistened my slacks.

So this is how it ends, with my pants wet with urine?
I felt less attractive than Martin van Buren.
I had learned my lesson, and all I can say,
Is don’t bang Santa’s woman; you won’t get away.

As these sounds filled my head: the growls and the booming,
I tried not to consider the revenge that was looming.
But just as I thought that my ending was near,
The terror around me all disappeared.

I awoke on the couch in a puddle of piss,
And went to answer the door, my mind still amiss.
The neighbors were angry, for I snored just like thunder,
I had disrupted their dinner while I lay in my slumber.

I stared ‘round my home, my sad tree was gone,
And no winter’s snow was now covering my lawn.
I looked at the calendar and was overcome with misgiving
Oh God, not again, it was only Thanksgiving.

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