The Anti-Claus And The Eight Reindeer Of The Apocalypse
'Twas the day after Christmas, I'd lived through one more As I stared at the giftwrap that covered the floor And thought, "Stockings are still hung, the tree is still here... I think I'll leave them up well into the New Year."
I told both the kids to go play with their toys Or go out and throw snowballs, but keep down the noise So my wife with her migraines, and I with no sleep Both agreed that it was into bed we should creep.
When suddenly, with the loud sound of a crash, Through the roof came a snowplow, all covered with ash, Tied with thick leather reins stretching up toward the skies, And atop it, a strange man with small, shifty eyes.
He wore tattered green snowpants, a worn-out black coat A tattoo on his arm of the head of a goat And a frenzied expression of evil and sleaze As he threw his thin frame from the snowplow with ease,
And said, "I take and damage, without any cause, For, true to the legend, I'm the Anti-Claus! And I know that you'll see the police won't be flagged, 'Cause I've got both your kids there outside, bound and gagged!"
So he lept to his duties, and stuffed my TV In his bag, with a cackle of demonic glee, Then, dumping my silverware into his sack, And while jumping, and flinging it onto his back,
He did knock down the bookshelf, which crashed to the floor As he ran to the pantry to take something more - He returned with two bottles of vodka and scotch, And screamed "Give me your valuables! Wallet and watch!"
The man took our small items, jumped back in his seat, Then grabbed for the reins while he kicked up his feet, As the snowplow was pulled straight up into the air - So I ran in the street to see what was out there.
As I looked up I saw the most frightening of shows - Nine huge ugly reindeer, in two fearsome rows, And leading, with swastika tattooed on head, One deer with a short moustache and nose glowing red.
The cavalcade stood on my roof in the snow, As my children both struggled, tied up down below, And the strange man commanded the deer at his game, Shouting and calling to each one by name:
"On Demon! On Danger! On Warlock and Werewolf! And Pestilence, Death, Disease, Famine, and Adolf!" And onto the garage the deer pulled the snowplow, As the malnourished man gave us both a deep bow.
With a gulp of my scotch and a shake of the reins, And a slight glance up in search of low - flying planes, The strange man flew off, while shouting, for all to hear, "Thanks a lot for the stuff, buddy! See you next year!"
