Twas the Night Before Christmas


‘Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the house

The creatures were stirring

Holy shit, it’s a mouse!

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care

The cats searched for treats

They are no longer there.

The children weren’t nestled all snug in their beds

Visions of video games danced in their heads.

My wife in her nightgown and I in my shorts

Tried to make love with the kids up and had to abort.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter

The windows all vibrated – I thought they would shatter.

Away to the door I flew like a flash

Perhaps there was someone who would give me some cash?

The moon shone above a yard with no snow

Did I want to go out? It was Georgia but cold so I said hell no!

When what to my wondering eyes did appear

But a huge old sled drawn by eight large reindeer.

With a fat old man driving and drinking – he let out a hick!

I knew in my heart this could only be Nick.

Faster than eagles? Nope, but they came

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.

“Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!

“On Comet! On Cupid! On Donner *hick* Blitzen!

“To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!”

He was swaying so much, I thought surely he’d fall.

The leaves I’d not raked swirled and blew

In the wake of their breeze…my lips turning blue.

Up to the housetop the reindeer – they flew!

With a sleigh full of gifts, and that fat, drunk elf, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,

The prancing and pawing of each reindeer’s hoof.

As I worried about holes made by the weight of the sleigh,

I heard a crash in the living room and there Santa lay.

I ran inside, crouched next to him on the floor,

Santa held out his flask, saying, “I need more.”

The sack with toys was flung to one side,

He eyed it with dismay, saying, “I honestly tried.

“I’m too old for this shit,” he slurred then groaned

As he rose to his feet I could see he was stoned.

His eyes – they twinkled! His dimples were merry,

And like most drunks, his nose looked a cherry.

But his mouth smiled, some would say in a bow,

As he slowly brushed soot and ash from his clothes.

He pulled out a pipe, packed and then lit it,

“Takes the edge off you know. Would you perhaps like a hit?”

I shook my head and he grinned with glee.

“You don’t indulge. That means more for me!”

In moments he was a hungry old elf,

And I laughed as he ate the food on the shelf.

“Fill my flask while I work,” he asked me again

And I did as he asked while he hummed a refrain.

He rehung the stockings and filled them with care,

Then placed gifts by the tree – for us all, a pair.

“My thanks, young man,” he said with a wink

Took his flask from my hand and was gone in a blink.

I heard a commotion on the roof, then a piercing whistle,

And I knew they were gone, not as fast as a missile.

But I heard him shout out as they took to the sky,

“Merry Christmas to all, but I have no idea why!”


With abject apologies to Clement Moore.