Twas the night before xmas (well, sort of. . . )

Twas the night before xmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a furry brown mouse. This was because a  gas leak was  slowly suffocating everyone.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, with silvery strands of old St Nicks hair, because last year when that fat fuck showed up, I was able to grab him by his hair and almost throw him down the stairs.

The children were nestled, all snug in their beds, while visions of standing in line at Wal Mart returning the crap gifts they got danced in their heads.

And mama in her kerchief and I in my cap, had just given up on sex because I’m all out of blue pills,

when out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, so grabbing my glock I did what I’m supposed to do and randomly shot

The bullets went flying, mama was screaming,

and there on the breast of the new fallen snow, lie Santa and toys, from his mouth came breath a-steaming.

“Hey Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and Vixen, hey Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen, it finally happened, what a surprise, an end to our fun because of a gun. I checked all my maps and thought what I thought, but must’ve thought wrong, and now I’ve been shot. So, to you my fine deer, and the rest of the world, I bid a merry xmas to all, and to all a . . . ”

Guess Jolly old St Nick didn’t make it!