Santa’s ‘No Knock’ Lament: Twas the Night Before Christmas Twas the night before Christmas… And all Americans were asleep Like generations before them, so many impersonate sheep Kneeling before their masters with teleprompters & ties Who sing, who dance, and tell sweet little liesWhile the eggnog hardens & the chestnuts roast The festive smell of evil spreads from coast to coast In the shape of consumerism with a narcissistic approach For one could look much dapper with a fur or leather coat As little Timmy & Juli sleep Santa begins to creep Into the kitchen he finds his thrills rummaging through pharmaceutical pills A slip, a peep, a scream and shout All became noticeable as Santa mucked about, He ate their turkey and drank their wine Only to knock the tree over with his obese behind, Mommy and Daddy begin to wake From the atrocious noise Santa begins to make, They call the police and hope they arrive soon For the intruder could begin to loom While the chorus of carolers fade away The sound of sirens make their way To families who the police vow to save, Without a knock, or a warning to be heard The militarized calvary began to surge, With Santa guzzling gravy & the kids fast asleep Saint Nick noticed men wearing helmets, and he began to freak “Freeze”, “Don’t move”, words which were never said, Now it doesn’t matter as Santa is shot in the head, He grasps for air and begins to hold his chest, For this is the consequence of resisting arrest, The Cops dont resuscitate, photograph or flee Instead with smiles and laughter they bury Santa Claus at sea, News teams, pundits and celebrities alike Painting the picture of an unfortunate crime Committed by Kris Kringle Who’s body… they still cannot find, No jury, no trial, no questions to be asked It ’twas still the night before Christmas… And possibly, the last.
I like mine over ^^^^^ that post ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone. I had come down the chimney, with presents to give and to see who in this home did live. As I looked all around, a strange sight did I see, no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree. No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand, on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands. With medals and badges, awards of all kinds, a sobering thought soon came to my mind. For this house was different, unlike any I'd see.. this was the home of a Marine. I'd heard stories about them, I had to see more, so I walked down the hall, pushed open a door. There he lay sleeping, silent, alone, curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home. He seemed so gentle, his face so serene, not how I pictured a Marine. Was this the hero, of whom I had read? Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed. His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan. I soon understood, this was more than a man. For I realized the families that I saw on this night, owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight. Soon around the nation, the children would play, and grown ups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day. They all enjoyed freedom, each month and each year, because of Marines like this one lying here. I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone, on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home. Just the very thought bought a tear to my eye, I dropped to my knees and started to cry. He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice, "Santa don't cry, this life is my choice, I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more. My life is my God, my country, my Corps." With that he rolled over, drifted back to sleep, I couldn't control it, I started to weep. I watched him for hours, so silent and still. I noticed he shivered from the night's chill. So I took off my jacket, the one made of red, and covered this Marine from his toes to his head. Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold, with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold. And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride, and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside. I didn't want to leave him, so quiet in the night, this guardian of honor so willing to fight. But half asleep, he rolled over and in a voice clean and pure, said, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all secure" One look at my watch and I knew he was right, Merry Christmas my friend, Our Troops! and goodnight.
