'Twas the Night Before Christmas [Revised]

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through my home
Every Creature was stirring, down to the dogs and their bones
Stockings weren't hung by the chimney with care
(We had no chimney, so we made do with the stairs).

Dad sat at the Twittersphere, eyes all agleam
As visions of tweets danced all across his screen
My mom read a book and as I wrote a blog
My sister yelled at me that the toilet was clogged.

When up on the roof there arose such a clatter
I looked up from my plunging to see what was the matter
Away from the crapper I flew like a flash
I hit my knee on the doorway and got quite the gash.

Flashing lights from the roof cast an eerie red glow
On the dead brown grass and the distinct lack of snow.
(Come on, it's December!  What's up with this weather?
Jack Frost, you better get your act together!)


I limped out the door, right leg bleeding profusely
Then I swung my head up-what a sight did I see!
Eight bored-looking reindeer and a fat man in red
shouting, "You guys all suck!  I could have been dead!"

"Santa," I cried, "could it really be you?
Delivering toys with your Caribou Crew?"
He turned with a shock, but before he could tell,
He lost his footing and down to the hard ground he fell

The reindeer just laughed at their brave master's fall
But as I limped towards him, I did not laugh at all.
And as I approached the big pile of red,
He rolled over, sat up, and rubbed his old head.

Only his head wasn't old, his head was quite young!
He did not match descriptions in the carols we've sung!
Was it an imposter who landed right here?
He had a handlebar moustache instead of a beard!

"Those stupid reindeer don't like me that much,"
said the Santa, if I could even call him such.
"I hate being the newbie; I get no respect
But I have a job now, so I'll take what I get."

"You aren't Santa," I said, one eyebrow raised.
"You smell like whiskey and donuts-glazed!"
"Looks are deceiving," said the smelly young man
and he patched up my knee with a wave of his hand.

"So you're really him?"  I asked him, eyes agleam
He said, "Well, one of four thousand-nineteen.
See Santa's a businessman, and business was booming
So he hired fat old dudes to do all his duties."

"But you aren't old, just a man that is fat!"
I accused that man very matter-of-fact.
But the smelly man laughed, answered, "This Economy
had Santa hiring hobos and homeless for cheap!"

As I surveyed his sleigh and his eight reindeer
Something popped into my head  that something seemed queer.
"So is that Dasher, Dancer, and Prancer, and Vixen?
Is that Comet, Cupid, and Donner, and Blitzen?"

The man laughed again, then shook his rank head
then named off the new deers' names instead:
"That's Jethro, Bartholomew, Razor and Ed,
Jeffery, Steve Martin, Sophie and Fred!"

He seemed quite proud of his reindeers' dumb names
I slapped my hand to my head and said, "Man, that's lame!
These names are so bad, not festive at all!"
And as I said more, that man looked appalled.

"These names have no magic, no romance no fun!
Not one name is good!  No!  No!  Not one!"
This Santa imposter then looked down and said,
"I thought it was clever to name a deer Fred."

Then I felt sad that I had insulted him so
I guess I get pissy when Christmas lacks snow.
So right then and there, I changed the subject
To something I dearly hoped I wouldn't regret.

"So Santa's a business man now, am I right?"
"Does that mean he gets the day off with the elves tonight?"
He said, "Oh, long ago, the elves were all fired.
Making toys are much cheaper in a sweatshop in China."

"That's pretty dark,"  I said, quite dismayed
I hadn't envisioned Christmas in quite this way.
"So much for the magic, I continued, eyes rolled.
"It's the magic of business," the man said, "It's GOLD!"

But before more could be said, sirens started to wail!
The wind started to blow, a powerful gale.
"Oh, no!  The police!"  squealed Santa in fear.
"This'll be the sixteenth time in five years!"

The noise spooked the reindeer, who took off in fright
They flew off haphazardly into the night
"What," cried I, "You've been arrested?!"
He wailed, "That fat bastard said I'd be protected!"

The sirens grew louder, and Santa just panicked.
This looked like no fun for old-I mean new St. Nick.
I turned to the convict and asked "what on earth for?"
He shrugged and said, "robbery, murder, nothing more!"

A police car skidded to a stop on the street
A fat cop rolled out and landed on his feet.
He walked up to us and after a pause,
he asked, "Do either of you go by Santa Claus?"

He shook his head no as I pointed at him
and as the cop grabbed him, young Santa looked grim.
Santa said, "Boy, you're on the naughty list now!"
For the lack of a better rhyme, I said, "Don't have a cow!"

The cop spoke not a word but went straight to his work.
He stuffed Santa in the squad car and turned with a jerk
And laying his hand on a box of donuts
he tossed me one, saying, "Thanks a bunch!"

And he went in the car and put it in gear.
And away he drove, away from me here.
But I heard Santa scream as the cop drove him away:
"Merry Christmas, you Ass!  Next year, you'll pay!"

***

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Merry Christmas.  I hope Santa's workers are a bit more...uh...appropriately in a union or something tonight.