WARNING! The following deals with mature subject matter immaturely. If you get offended, it's your fault for reading it.
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| Garbage Santa on his debaucherous ride. Illustration by Amanda Gallagher |
‘Twas the night before the night
before the night before the night before Christmas and all
through the dorms
The students were drinking, playin’
Xbox or watching porn.
Their laundry was strung across the
floor
In
hopes that mom would wash ‘em when they visited her for a weekend or more.
Some were all nestled and sloshed
in their beds,
From
binging and partying after exams.
I was a sleep, a girl by my side,
Sleeping
after one crazy ride.
When out on street, there came a
loud beat,
I
fell out of bed to take a peak.
Out to the window, it slid with a
bang,
I
even ripped down my communist flag!
The street lamp glowed yellow on
the dirty snow
And
illuminated the highway and the landscape below.
Then, what should came to my
attention,
But
an ugly toboggan pulled by eight tiny penguin!
With a funky old bum so smelly and
slick
I
knew for a moment it WASN’T Saint Nick!
Edging and swaying they waddled and
came
As
he shouted and slured each ugly bird’s name.
“Now Bastard! now Leroy! now, Mofo
and Dumb Ass!
On
Vomit! on Stupid! on Shitard and Pissin’!
To the topf of the- orf- to the
topf of the- blurp
Nah
dath awah! dath awah! dath awah all!”
The birds looked back and yelled at
full blast,
“Do
it yourself! You stupid drunk ass!”
Stopped there they did and slid to
a halt,
With
trashy Santa landing face first in rock salt!
And cursing and staggering, I heard
him climb up the waterspout.
He
seemed like a spider that should be washed out.
So, up to an open window I heard
him go in,
Ready
to commit some sort of nasty sin.
He was dressed with a blanket, from
shoulder to knee,
And
smelt like booze and possibly weed.
An empty trash bag he held in his
hand,
He
looked like a peddo, ready to make his stand!
His eyes looked dead, his face how
scary!
His
cheeks were definitely like roses, but his nose more a rotted cherry.
The drool from his mouth dripped
down below,
While
a Walmart bag hung from his ears to his throat.
The butt of a cig was stuck in his
teeth,
and
a flask in his pocket to provide him some relief.
He was sinister in face and no sign
of a belly,
But
that didn’t matter since he was so smelly!
He was lanky and drunk, a hideous
troll,
Who
was clearly not there for a nightly stroll!
A glare in his eye, and the grin on
his head,
soon
told me I had everything to dread.
With a swig from his flask, he went
to his terrible work.
He
stole all our stuff! The awful jerk!
And stick his middle finger high in
the air,
He
made a jump for the window, wanting to avoid the stairs.
He thudded in his mobile, and
yelled out a curse,
And
off the birds went, even cutting off a hearse.
I heard him slur as we end this
rhyme:
“To
the bar boyth! I’m payin’ thith time!”
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