A schizophrenic’s Christmas letter

Mood: ulmaceous

Dear Satan Claws,

The sugarplumps dAnCe and — s i n g —– in my head that I have been a GOOD BOY so dont you dare mark me with your DAMNED COAL!!! Those vixens keep STEALING MY STOCKINGS when comets fall, and elves are hiding under the bed to gobobobble my eyes. The King of Mice has issued orders. I havent slept in THREE WEAKS and YOU KNOW IT!!! Do not give Ralph an air gun unless he stops controlling my hands and making me TAKE OFF MY CLOTHES!!!!!!!!

I am your plate of cookies,

Billy the Goat Boy

The Last Christmas

Drunk on rumballs, Santa’s
cuffed on Cops, shirtless
in a flurry of curses.

He can’t make bail
with toys and candy canes.
The elves wander off

and succumb to
hypothermia or bears.
Kids of all ages

don’t notice as they rip open
their latest gadgets,
with all the right logos.

Who needs that creepy
reverse burglar?
The reindeer are put down.

Released at last, Santa
can’t get home.
He lives under a bridge,

drinks Mad Dog, finally
gives up and becomes
a greeter at Wal-Mart.

Mrs. Claus dies, cold
and alone. Santa’s liver
explodes the same night.

There’s a small obit
next day. In their memory,
Enjoy Huge Savings.

12 Days’ Total

Over the 12 days of Christmas, my true love gave to me:

12 drummers drumming,
22 pipers piping,
30 lords a-leaping,
36 ladies dancing,
40 maids a-milking,
42 swans a-swimming,
42 geese a-laying,
40 gold rings,
36 calling birds,
30 french hens,
22 turtle doves,
and 12 partridges in pear trees…

for a total of 184 birds, 140 people, and 40 rings, or 364 gifts altogether. I’m not counting the pear trees, which were merely packaging.

And in case you were wondering about the maids a-milking, there are no cows. You don’t want to know.