'Twas the night before Christmas . . .

by Michael (with some help of Clement Moore and an angelic host of elves)

’Twas the night before Christmas, around ten o’clock;

Joe Kozmarski was lurking, packing a Glock.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

Which got Joe a’thinking, Which lady was bare?

The children were quaking, all tucked in their beds,

Clutching their covers up over their heads.

It was all so suspicious, Joe pulled out his gun –

If a gang of thieves came, he would shoot every one.

Then out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Joe sprang to the door to see what was the matter.

There in the gleam of the new-fallen snow

Was a man dressed in red with eight reindeer in tow.

Joe shot him. It’s sad. He shot Santa Claus.

And he shot up the deer from their heads to their paws.

Ah, the yard was all bloody, deer hung from the trees,

And the smell of fresh venison danced in the breeze.

Then down from the sky, from a heavenly cloud,

Sad music broke forth, melancholic and loud –

A heavenly chorus consisting of elves

Sang dirges for Santa and also themselves.

Joe sat on the ground and he started to weep;

He’d had trouble before, but never this deep.

The elves from on high all called him a fuck-up,

A jerk-off, an asshole; then told him to buck up –

So, Joe got a-working: he picked through the scene,

Wiped blood from each item until it was clean,

And he made up a pack and went door to door

And delivered his gifts, then delivered some more.

Young Bill got an antler, young Jane got a hoof,

And Tommy got shingles Joe’d shot off a roof.

Hank got a sleigh rail, and Deb, Rudolph’s nose

Sue got two keychains with Santa’s big toes.

Each child had a Christmas with plenty of cheer,

And Joe ate a dinner of roasted reindeer.

(I wish everyone

A very merry Christmas, and to all a good noir!)