Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the flat,
Not a human was stirring, they were too bloody fat.
No stockings were hung by the chimney at all,
The family didn’t think that Santa would give them a call.
All of the children were in front of the telly,
Each one of them clutching something from the deli,
And mama in her tracksuit, and I in my shorts,
Had just settled our plates to watch Sky TV sports.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I didn’t really care about anything but batter,
But one of the brats wanted to see who was there,
So he went to the window and started to stare.
The moon on the top of the brown tinted snow,
Gave the dustbins outside an eerie and odd glow,
When, what to my beer bleary eyes should appear,
But a freaking huge sleigh, and eight humungous reindeer.
I looked once, I looked twice and saw it was some chick,
I knew in a moment I should give her some stick,
So, I whistled and shouted to get her to see,
I reckoned maybe I could slip her my key.
From her lips came a shout,
Then she pointed me out,
“Now Dasher, now Prancer and Cupid!”
I don’t know what she said, but it sounded quite stupid.
Why she still uses that old fashioned device,
I don’t know, but I must say her hooters are quite nice,
So as she flew over and landed on the roof,
One of the reindeer caught the television aerial with his hoof.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard from my living room,
The television, that wonderful precious heirloom,
Had turned into a hideous picture of snow,
And I new in a minute just where I should go.
Then the young tart, the one from the sleigh,
Who was probably not female, and probably gay,
Came flying down the chimney and into the room,
Dressed like a witch on her bad-assed broom.
Santa’s stand in, she announced to us all,
She looked at the TV, and said ‘That’s kinda small,
Grabbing a bundle of gifts from her sack,
She said, ‘Why’s the wrapping paper all black?’
She reached over and grabbed a can of my beer,
At that moment I looked down her brassiere,
Hey, I didn’t have biscuits or even some milk,
But I could tell that her undies were Japanese silk.
Santa’s helper downed that beer in two seconds or less,
How she did it, I can only but guess,
And then with a burp and a big-ass fart,
She left us wide-eyed as she got in her cart.
We opened our presents to see what was there,
By that time I had sat back in my chair,
I tore off the wrappers to find a TV,
That clever transvestite remembered HD.
She sprang to her sleigh, and because of my beer,
Found it a problem to drive and to steer!
I heard her exclaim as she drove into the night,
But what she said I cannot write.
Reports of her sighting were seen on the news,
But she was in our living room having a snooze,
Because her sleigh was busted and broke,
And no-one else would get presents until she awoke.
David Owen Nunes
David is many faceted, fascinating, fastidious, fair, fabulous and the other F word. He works in the Pensions Industry, plays occasional golf, and dreams of being able to write full time.
