'Twas the day after Christmas
And all through the store
There were backstabbing buggy-thieves
And price-cuts galore
Nan's stockings were sagging
And Gramp's temper was hot
As they trawled for a parking stall
In the boxing day lot
The grandkids were nestled
Six-deep in the back
Envisioning gizmos
Snagged cheap off the racks
And Ma in her sweatpants
And I in my britches
Had just settled down
To shiv some rude bitches
When out of Security
The guards sprang like a shot--
We aborted our fisticuffs
Afraid we were caught
The lights on the breast of the hard-worn lino
Gave the lustre of death to us sale-hungry souls
When what to our greed-brightened eyes should appear
But a mask-wearing fat man and eight deadly reindeer
They elbowed and headbutted
Jabbed antler and boot
They nabbed all the deals
And they bagged up the loot
More rapid than eagles
His coursers they came
And he swore and he shouted
And he called them by name
"On Dancer! Get dollies!
You, Prancer! The TVs!
Comet, to hardware,
And Donder, get movies!
To the backs of the stockrooms
To the ends of the mall
We've laid off the elves
So we must take it all!"
With Security chasing
His bad-antlered boys
He knocked out a clerk
With a big bag of toys
And squeezed through the gates
To the scream of alarms
While the shoppers all flung themselves
Sideways out of harm
But I heard him exclaim
As he bowled over a bruiser
"It comes back in your stockings
Next year, you big losers!"
The travesty that is these words was perpetrated, for your entertainment, by J. J. DeBenedictis
Peace on Earth (yeah, I'm looking at you, fat man)
and happy holidays to all!
