“Twas the Night Before Christmas” if Santa Was a Raging Alcoholic
Happy holidays!
‘Twas the night before Christmas, just before bed,
And a vague apprehension danced ‘round in my head;
I sat with my cocoa and nurtured the fear,
That that red-suited asshole would be back this year.
The kids were asleep, my wife was sanguine,
Almost done with her two-hour nighttime routine;
When up in the trees, I heard a loud CRACK!
And knew that that fat elfin wino was back.
Santa had panicked and landed real hard,
After clipping the tree in my neighbor’s backyard;
His sleigh was turned over, its hazard lights blinking,
Which gave me no doubt that Saint Nick had been drinking.
“Whoa,” said the elf, “What the fuck did I hit?”
“A fir tree,” I answered, “You drunk piece of shit.”
Santa got up with a belch and a stagger,
And saw me there visually shooting him daggers.
“Hey there, compadre!” he said with a grin,
“It’s your old buddy S-dog! Can I come in?”
“Hell no,” I replied, “I told you last year,
The way you behaved makes you not welcome here.”
