‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

The living were restless. Yes, even the mouse;

The tension was rising, much higher it’d flare;

The murderous plot to become a nightmare;

The family lay helpless all snug in their beds;

While wickedness schemed of taking some heads;

Poor mamma grew nervous, and I sensed a trap,

I tried to ignore it and take a short nap,

Yet unaware, an approaching bad monster,

I embarked on a dream of life as a mobster.

‘Fore midnight we woke at the sound of a crash,

I rolled over and grunted and declined to dash.

Mama scowled yet arose as she called me an ass,

I snatched covers to swaddle, then passed a loud gas.

Yet what to my reluctant ears did I hear,

But a high-pitched scream, no doubt from my dear.

With a sigh and a smirk, I rose none too quick,

Not knowing her fright was a red dressed St. Nick.

I found her spread out and sliced up in pieces.

My love was attacked by a man who ate Reese’s.

“For, Dasher! and, Dancer! and Prancer and Vixen!

For, Comet! for, Cupid! for, Donner and Blitzen!

I seek vengeance my pets! Your plight is my call.

Now slash away! Slash away! Slash away all!”

He stopped and looked up where I stood on the stairs,

His smile a vile sneer brought me fear for my heirs.

“She ran over my reindeer, stole all the toys too.

She ruined Christmas for many, I ask if you knew.”

More candy he munched, awaiting my answer,

While twirling his hatchet, he swayed like a dancer.

Then I drew a breath and searched for some wordage,

Not sure what to say, I hunted for courage.

“I knew nothing dear Santa, if I had, my Claus,

Would have slaughtered already, without a pause,

She put the kibosh on Christmas, so I concur,

No forgiveness, nor pardon did she dare deserve.”

He stared at her carcass, stuck a toe in the gore,

Then shouldered his hatchet and strode to the door.

A wink of his eye and a nod of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He threw open the door and stepped out to go,

The wind howled sharply and blew in some snow.

On the lawn was his sleigh pulled by a strange team.

Six white huskies with wings. It must be a dream.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

Off my yard they all flew like the down of a thistle.

I stepped over the carnage to close the door.

Then went for a mop to clean up the floor.

Soon heard him exclaim, as I recovered from fright—

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”