Here's a poem to get the holiday mood going!
'Twas the night before Chanukwanzmas,
And all through the city,
Every hobo was brawling,
Every forum was shitty.
The stockings were hung, as was the tradition,
to be filled with sw33t lootz by a man on a mission.
The children lie snugly asleep in their beds,
As Rick fucking Astley sang and danced in their heads.
Angela straightened her fur, knowing sleep would come next.
She and I just finished our hot sandwich sex.
And then with the speed of the Caped Crusader,
I rose from the bed, hearing a home invader.
Over to the window I flew like a flash,
Threw a tomahawk out there, ready to make some guts mash.
The tomahawk flew, straight into the snow.
Just missed the legs of a pimp and his hoes.
I was busy saying sorry, so I failed to hear,
The sound of a fat man and his overworked deer.
So I closed the window, said "fuck it" and went straight to bed.
Didn't know what went on in the sky over my head.
I didn't pay attention, which was really a shame,
But I could've sworn I heard him call his deer all by name.
"Now Daniel! now Manuel! now Jose and Vixen!
On Vomit! On Stupid, Combover, and Shitzen!"
They flew over porches, and up over walls.
The man had a voice like he was kicked in the balls.
And without turbulence nor obstacle, Santa Claus flew.
Left a hole in my roof though, fat fuck lost his shoe!
And then, with a twinkling, I heard on my roof,
His diabetic wheezing, like this was some sort of bad spoof.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot.
Covered with snow bits and a crap ton of soot.
A bundle of loot he had swung on his back,
He had a sit down while he fingered his sack,
To be honest, rather than a santa, he looked more like a Gary,
But he was still red as an apple and his face was all hairy.
He had a mouth I'm sure, but it was covered in beard.
Aman would be proud, but children would be afeared.
The stump of a joint he held tight in his teeth.
He had a Candy-Cane sword in its own little sheath.
He was a fat old stoner, and he dressed like an Elf.
I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
I calmly asked if he gave me a deadringer,
He whipped right around and he gave me the finger.
He spoke not a word, and went back to his work,
Gave my wife a vibrator, that promiscuous jerk.
And giving a disapproving look to the pimp and his hoes,
Taking a hit on his joint, up the chimney he rose.
And just when I thought I had good behaviour mastered,
I still found coal in my sock! Fat judgemental bastard!
