(Politically Correct Version)
T'was the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck.
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to Elves,
Vertically Challenged they were calling themselves.
And labour conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!
The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E. P. A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their rooftops.
Secondhand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called Unenlightened.
And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorised use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in overdue compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamoured or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific.
No candy or sweets, they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
No baseball, no football, someone could get hurt
Besides, playing sports exposes kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist and should be passe
And Nintendo would rot your poor brain away.
So Santa just stood there, dishevelled, perplexed
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue.
Everyone, everywhere-even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth.
"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth."
'Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat.
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.
The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook,
It was time for some pussy, fuck reading that book.
Momma in her teddy, and I in the nude,
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner and momma went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.
With a fat little driver, half out of his sled,
A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.
Sure as I'm speaking, he was as high as a kite
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.
"Whoa Sh*thead, whoa A$$hole, hey Dickface, whoa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts."
"Look out for the lamp post, and don't hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, 'cause I gotta go pee.
They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and puked on my shrub.
And then from the roof we heard something splatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
I put on my jacket to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
His suit was all covered with dip spit galore,
He looked like a bum and smelled like a whore.
"I'm all fuckin' shit-canned ," he said with a smile,
"And Rudolf had gas the last half-a mile."
He walked to the kitchen, for himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, as my wife turned around.
Santa was hung half way to the ground.
Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a manual on how to pop zits.
A dime bag of reefer was Santa's next find,
And a six pair of panties, the edible kind.
A boarding school pisser, a penis extension,
And several other things that I can't even mention.
A cock ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
And a bong that was wrapped with aluminium foil.
"This stuff's not for kids, Mrs. Santa will sh*t,
So I'll leave it all here, and then I'll just split."
He filled both our stockings, looked at my wife's cleave.
And tucked my son's crack pipe up under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Made it out of the chimney, on my roof smacked his head.
In time he was seated, took the reigns of his hitch,
Saying, "Take me home, Rudolph, the night's been a b@tch!"
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
"The best thing about college is the beer won't run out!"
Twas the night before Christmas
when all through the house
I searched for the tools
to hand to my spouse
Instructions were studied
and we were inspired,
in hopes we could manage
"Some Assembly Required."
The children were quiet (not asleep) in their beds,
while Dad and I faced the evening with dread:
a kitchen, two bikes, Barbie's town house to boot!
And, thanks to Grandpa, a train with a toot!
We opened the boxes,
my heart skipped a beat
- let no parts be missing
or parts incomplete!
"Too late for last-minute returns or replacement;
if we can't get it right, it goes in the basement!
When what to my worrying eyes should appear
but 50 sheets of directions, concise, but not clear,
With each part numbered and every slot named,
so if we failed, only we could be blamed.
More rapid than eagles the parts then fell out,
all over the carpet they were scattered about.
"Now bolt it! Now twist it! Attach it right there!
Slide on the seats, and staple the stair!
Hammer the shelves, and nail to the stand."
"Honey," said hubby, "you just glued my hand."
And then in a twinkling, I knew for a fact
that all the toy dealers had indeed made a pact
to keep parents busy all Christmas Eve night
with "assembly required" till morning's first light
We spoke not a word, but kept bent at our work,
till our eyes, they went bleary; our fingers all hurt.
The coffee went cold and the night, it wore thin
before we attached the last rod and last pin.
Then laying the tools away in the chest,
we fell into bed for a well-deserved rest.
But I said to my husband just before I passed out,
"This will be the best Christmas, without any doubt.
Tomorrow we'll cheer, let the holiday ring,
and not have to run to the store for a thing!
We did it! We did it! The toys are all set
for the perfect, most perfect, Christmas, I bet!"
Then off to dreamland and sweet repose
I grateful went, though I suppose
there's something to say for those self-deluded-
I'd forgotten that Batteries are never included!