by Thomas M. Pender
An old favorite returns. You'll notice at the bottom that this poem has a dual copyright year. This is because I originally wrote this silly romp in December 1988, but over the years I have misplaced any and every copy I ever had. So have the people who had copies. After running out of ideas to recover the original, I sat down this week with the original text of "A Visit From St. Nicholas" and simply reconstructed my parody. It was pretty easy overall, since it was always a line-by-line parody, but I know some small parts are different, so I can't claim it's the original. Still, it was fun to "rewrite." I hope my goofier (and grosser?) readers will get a Christmas kick out of this one. Ho ho ho, indeed! (P.S., I came up with the title five or ten years before Tim Burton. I can't sue because you can't "steal" a title, but just wanted my readers to know that I dreamed it up on my own.)
‘Twas the night before the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, ‘cept for me and my spouse;
The stockings were thrown up, quite crooked with no flair,
In haste, ‘cause the relatives soon would be there!
The children were tousled, all twisted in their beds,
While terrors of great-grandmas lurked in their heads
And the Mrs. in her work clothes, and I in my pants,
Had just settled down, ‘cause we got half a chance;
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what the hell was the matter!
Away to the window I flew like a plane,
Damaged the shutters, and stuck my nose to the pane.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
Gave a luster of midday . . . so the neighbors got a show!
When what to my irritated eyes should appear
But my brother-in-law, and his roommate (the queer)
Their eyes how bloodshot, their tongues how thick
I knew in a moment I was going to be sick
More obnoxious than salesmen, these assholes they came
They knocked down our Santa, and slurred out our names:
“Hey, Rita! Hey, Mickey! It’s Chuck and it’s Bill!
At our holiday party, we had more than our fill.
We’ve been driving all night, going bar to bar;
We were heading on home, but only made it this far.”
Then up on the housetop, his cohort we heard
Stumbling on our shingles, so I flipped him the bird
Then in a twinkling I heard on the roof
The stumble of a drunkard (the noise was the proof!)
As I drew in my head, and was turning around
Down the chimney Chuck fell with much damage and sound
He was covered in ashes and grime, slime and dirt;
He had garbage in his pockets, and food on his shirt.
A string of my Christmas lights he wore down his back,
And he looked like a douchebag I’d love to attack!
His eyes, how unfocused; his pimples, how many
And as far as cab fare, I could tell he didn’t have any.
His limp, slobbering mouth moved painfully slow,
And the beard on his chin was soggy with snow;
The stump of a cork he held tight in his teeth,
And a stench encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a fat face, and a large exposed belly
That had stains upon it of mustard and jelly.
He was unshaven and balding; a right ugly old elf,
And I cried when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A roll of his eyes, and a drop of his head
Soon gave me to know I’d never get to bed!
He spoke not a clear word, but went straight to his work:
He stumbled and broke my TV, the jerk!
And laying a finger straight up his nose
And cutting a fart, he peed in his clothes.
Cops sprang into action, and to me gave a ticket,
Then hauled ass back out, without taking either dickhead.
I explained to my wife in a note I did write:
“I’ve had it. I took the car. Merry Christmas. Good night!”
written by t. michael pender, 12/22/88 and 12/24/11
©1988, 2011 T. Michael Pender. All rights reserved.
