"T'was the night before Christmas,
and all through The Novel,
Not a human was stirring,
Though many a-devil."
"Fat boy was sitting from me not too far,
Ogling boys and eating a Mallomar.
And the one legged fellow was there in a slump,
Waxing and polishing the tip of his stump."
"At a table nearby, a filthy man sung a tune --
only term for it, it was the call of the loon.
Outside, a hag screeched and more she did howl,
While inside a man picked the lice from his jowl."
"The clerk rolled his eyes, and sneered with a grin,
while outside all the groats split a bottle of gin.
When out in the parking lot, there arose such a clatter,
I got up from the counter, to see what was the matter!"
"When what to my wandering eyes should appear,
But a staggering drunk, filth-covered, ear to ear.
He wore a red suit, fur-covered, I think.
His Santa Claus hat could not hide his godawful stink."
"He weaved and he staggered, his shirt covered with sick.
Clear, he was a bum, dressed up as St. Nick.
He fell on his knees, whipped out hose for a piss.
And babbled and roared, on a meth-amphetamine kick."
"His eyes -- how unfocused! His breath -- oh, how fowl!
His face-veins all-busted, his mouth shrieked in a howl!
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he cackled, like a bowl full of jelly."
"MOTHER FUCKER! TITTY SUCKER!
TWO BALLED BITCH FUCK YOU ALL!
COMMIES AND JEW BASTARDS AND SLUMLORDS SO SMALL!
His voice roared and it echoed, through the whole place,
As Santa fell forward, landing right on his face."
"The Novel clerk called 911 as the crowd cheered,
While for the bum Santa, it was just as he feared.
As a cop car pulled up, oh so black and white,
And a brute cop dragged him off, holding him tight."
"So, round the corner, the cop car a-flew,
With the bum Santa in back, trapped as its crew.
From the back seat of the car, his hands all in chains,
The bum Santa called out, curses falling like rains."
"GOD DAMN YOU ALL, YOU ARE ALL PILES OF SHIT.
HAPPY CHRISTMAS? LIKE HELL! GO ROT IN A PIT!"
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