‘Twas the night before Christmas, if you believe in that crap,
Not a sound could be heard, ‘cept some faint gangsta rap.
The beer cans were scattered on my sink, desk, and hutch.
(I’d make quite a fortune if I recycled that much.)

I up and passed out, face-down in my bed,
While visions of nude showgirls danced in my head.
With dreams full of strippers and a tummy full of beer,
I hoped I’d be sleeping ’til sometime next year.

When a ways out the window, a loud noise exploded,
I snatched up my pistol an hoped it was loaded.
I dashed for the door, my eyes full of gunk.
I couldn’t see shit; an armed gung-ho drunk.

I finally threw up my arms and said, “Screw it,”
Strutted to the window and strained to look through it.
When, what did I see, though my eyes were still fucked?
Some guy in a sleigh pulled by eight antlered bucks.

Now the dude at the wheel who looked like St. Nick?
He weighed half a ton and dressed like a prick.
So the guy whipped the deer like some S&M dame,
Then he hooted and hollered and called out some names:

“Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On Donder and Blitzen!”
I got pretty excited, and my eyes went agleam,
Cuz Dancer and Vixen were two chicks from my dream!

“What could be better,” I thought, eyes aglow,
“Than a visit from Pimp Santa and a few ho ho ho’s?”
So up to the house-top the deer they did fly,
Before Santa’s fat ass pulled them out of the sky.

And then, with a loud thump, I heard from above,
The arrival of Santa and some hot monkey love.
When he slid down my chimney and his ass hit the ground,
I saw him alone, ne’er a ho to be found.

So while I once was excited and thought he was legit,
It turned out that “Santa” was here to steal shit.
A gigantic sack he had clenched in his fist,
As he surveyed my assets, I began to get pissed.

I leapt out of the hallway and into plain sight
Screaming, “Put ‘em up, Fat Fuck, or die here tonight!”
He put up his hands, dropped the bag and yelled, “Cool it!”
I still squeezed the trigger, but found the gun had no bullets.

I moved closer to hit him; to press the attack,
But he side-stepped and kicked me right in the sack.
Santa started to chuckle and cackle and gloat,
While watching me squirm with my balls in my throat.

Yet just when he thought that he had me outclassed,
I shoved the fireplace poker straight up his ass.
He cursed and he writhed and he wailed and he sneered,
So I picked up my Zippo and set fire to his beard.

Then I found me some bullets and put two in his head,
Making damn sure that Pimp Santa was quite simply dead.
I rolled him up in a blanket, tossed his corpse in the trunk,
But couldn’t drive to dispose of him, cuz I was still drunk.

So I whipped up some egg nog, about 90 proof,
Then shot the eight reindeer that were still on my roof.
Replaced my front door wreath with a big festive sign:
“Get Two Pounds of Deer Meat for $9.99!”

Tags: christmas, the night before christmas, holiday satire

Copyright © 2006 The JagPot