Santa Snow Globe

Twas the night before Christmas

Her heart warmed with buttered rum

Mrs. Claus roused suspicious

Finished early with her sum

The numbers did not add up

More gifts made than children served

Like Vodka splashed in the cup

When the wine’s been well preserved

So with glasses on her nose

And red hot rod in her hand

She stalks her old man with prose

Meant for sailors far from land

Stirred awake by her mad taunts

Santa gathers up his elves

And leaves for one of his haunts

The North Pole dive “Jezebels”

Soon schnockered with ho ho hos

His Santa Barbies so fine

He is soon freed from his clothes

And his sleigh traded for wine

An elf runs to the misses

To warn her the old man’s spent

And finds her flush with kisses

Slurping eggnog with Clark Kent

That Fortress of Solitude

That eyesore locals revile

Where Superman dances nude

Apparently is her style

So the elf finds her out there

Her bifocals thick with fog

And calls her back to her care

The work orders in her log

Someone needs to bring the gifts

And munch the cookies and milk

Or we’ll all get the short shrifts

They’ll mail us coals wrapped in silk

She turns back to her boy toy

But Superman waves her off

“I’m not a penniless goy

Up here I’m a well bred toff

Not some hapless FedEx boy

But a hero with fine coiffe”

So Mrs. Claus grabs her rod

The pointed end sparkling red

Thrusts it toward his super cod

Makes him yelp for his death bed

Superman relents in shame

He will fly the gifts that year

While Santa sleeps off his game

With a feather in his rear

Next morning Santa comes back

In nothing but one stocking

Waves off the misses’ vile flack

Says he’s done with her knocking

Packs his bag for Rosita

A town down Mexico way

Leaves for a señorita

A girl who will suck and lay

Says she can keep the old store

The house in the Hamptons too

He’s done with his Christmas chore

The North Pole is too damned blue

But she will not let him leave

Not with a score to settle

She’s got a trick up her sleeve

Warm absinthe in a kettle

With the aid of her old slave

A lesbo elf named Red Fern

She holds him down with a trave

And makes him drink the old burn

The absinthe does a wonder

Makes Santa two inches tall

Robs him of all his thunder

Figurine fit for a ball

She keeps him in a snow globe

An ornament for their tree

And dons her sexy pink robe

To lure a fat man with Brie

She needs a new Santa Claus

Someone to drive the old sleigh

While she holds fast to the laws

Lest we do Christmas in May

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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