The Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Except for my son Billy's pet mouse named Chris. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this.  Anyway, my wife in her kerchief and I in my cap, Were asleep after a long day of Christmassy crap. When then, from the chimney, there arose quite a clamour, "There's someone in the house" my frightened wife stammered. I reached for the bedside, grabbed my handgun and said, "This trespasser's getting an ass full of lead"  I crept down the stairway, and slid down the hall, And, handgun in hand, I peered 'round the wall. The burglar wore red, and stood fat and stout, With a large burlap sack, to hold jewelry no doubt. Who this guy was, I just couldn't place, For a bushy white beard covered most of his face.  Now, I'm not a bad person, I think you'd agree, But you just don't break into a man's house, you see. "Hey you" I said, as he spun 'round with a twitch, "Merry Christmas, you son of a bitch!" I fired a shot as he dove to the floor. Through a flurry of tinsel, I fired twice more. "Please stop!" he yelled loudly, "You don't understand" "Stay away from my family, you disgusting old man"  With his finger on his nose, he lept with a burst, And dashed for the fireplace, but I got there first. I pushed the muzzle into his beard white as snow, When suddenly a small voice behind me cried "No!"  I turned 'round and saw it was Billy, my son. With his pet mouse in hand, he said "Put down the gun. What are you doing? Don't you know who that is? Couldn't you tell by that red hat of his? That's Santa Claus, dad. It's jolly Saint Nick. Now put down the gun. Come on, don't be a dick." Billy was right, this old man meant no harm. I holstered my gun, as he outstretched his arm. In a flash he took the gun right out of its holder, And fired a shot into my left shoulder.  "Goddamnit!" I cried as I fell to the floor, While the burglar made haste toward the jewelry drawer. "I feel kind of bad" he said, filling his sack, "But you believe in Santa, so cut me some slack. Maybe next time someone breaks into your house, You won't listen to some six year old kid with a mouse."  Then he yelled, as he ran off with my bigscreen TV, "Merry Christmas to all. Well, maybe to me!" 
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