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The Bad Night Before Christmas

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It was the night before Christmas, or Kwanzaa or whatever,
when I heard a great noise, it was loud, a great clamor!
I ran to the window and what do I find?
Carolers, singing the bells, and one … getting high?
He had a blunt in his mouth and baggies of hashish,
And handed them out to the kids with the cash.
I grew upset, and before I could do something,
I noticed up in the sky: it’s a bird, a plane, a super guy!
He came down from above, as the choir started to sing,
“Silent Night,” and he started to plea:

“No, no, no, you can’t sing that!” he said, his voice in a quiver,
“Sing about gender neutral, meaningless jibber!
“Look at this guy; he has the right spirit,
“he hands out pot like candy — he can deliver!
“Speaking of which, I need a nickel and dime,
“it’s been a while since even I have been high!”

“That’s it!” cried I, “This is stupid and insane!
I don’t care if he’s a ‘hero,’ I think weirdo’s a better name!”

Then off in a rush, grabbed my gun — just in case,
and ran down the stairs in a hurried pace.
When I left the building, the situation was worse,
there was another, super type person arguing with the first!
They yelled and fought and threw carolers like snowballs,
and beat each other silly, while the stoned one weighed snow.

“That’s enough!” said I, waiving the gun in the air,
and fired three rounds so they knew I was there.
“Cool! It’s a gun!” said one, the other, “EVIIIIL!!”
and the one who liked it shoved the others head in the snow.

“Let me introduce myself, I am Politically Incorrect Man,” said he,
“but Super Bob you may call me”
“I don’t care who you are, I want you to leave this city!”
And before I could say more, the other tossed him — I felt no pity.

“Allow me to introduce myself!” said the other with glitter in eye, and a sparkle in cheek.
He then cleared his throat and began to speak:
“I am the Willingly Democratic Socialistic Politically Correct Super Person!” he shouted — I thought I heard fanfare.
and then, “I am here to tell you that GUNS ARE EVIIIIL!!! Try rhyming that you conservative jerk!”

and while from Bob I sensed immaturity,
with this What’s-his-name, I sensed pure stupidity.
Then as What’s-his-name was about to grab me by the throat,
Super Bob came and hit him with a large model toy boat.

All of the carolers had left, and they limped away,
including the druggie, they all had enough for the day.
“Well, I might as well be inside where it is safe,” and turning to leave,
behold, I looked up, and what do I see?
A skinny Santa on my roof, dragging away my TV!

“Thief!” cried I;
“Santa!” cried Bob;

“A guy in a red suit!” cried, um, What’s-his-name.

“Merry Christmas to all!” shouted Bob at the Santa, “and to all a good-”
“Kwanzaa you jerk!” said What’s-his-name
as he punched Super Bob square in the face,
then jumped on him and pummeled his face,
while saying, “Kwanzaa and Hanukkah and Winter Solstice,
“but Christmas is stupid and and just a disgrace!”

“This situation is stupid,” I said with disgust,
and ran to my roof, with my gun that I trust!
There I met “O’l Saint Nick,” with my stuff in his sleigh,
and he pulled out his gun. and sent me away.
“I will not, I will not! this is the worst Christmas Eve ever!”
I shouted, gun drawn, finger on trigger.
“Ho ho ho,” said he,
“why, you’ll never get me!”
And just as I was about to fill him with lead,
What’s-his-name came, and stopped me instead!

Standing between me and the Santa,
he took my gun and broke it in fragments!
“My gun!” said I, as Santa shot that idiot right in the back!
“Ha ha ha! I am invincible!” he yelled at him back,
and then turned to me with a smile so evil,
and said, “This is what you do when you meet guys like him:
“First, you have no gun:
“guns are evil;
“and the criminals carry them,
“they ignore the law:
“they are evil;
“then you plead for your life,
“but since he is evil,
“he shoots: you die!
“And when he runs away,
“dial 911,
“and you will save the day,
because you were the smart one!”

“That makes no sense!” said I,
As What’s-his-name stepped aside,
and Santa shot me, only God knows where!
I was in too much pain to care!
Last face I saw was Bob’s…
saying, “Merry Christmas to you, and to you a good night.”
I would wish that …
I had died rather than…
to have his face be…
the last that I see…
before I blacked out…
that cold, Christmas Eve.

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About Abbie Gonzalez