twas the night before christmas…
warning
…and all through the slums, not a homeless person went hungry, not even the bums. The sodas and chicken that were handed to all, came straight from the mitts of St. Knixville who was having a ball. This poem I’d hoped to bastardize perhaps just a wee bit longer, but sadly that shall not be the case. I thought I could fart but was woefully off base. So off I must spring, to the bathroom I go! To change my shorts for what must be the fourth fucking time in a row. But before I wipe up and deal with this flu spawned batter, I ought to exclaim like it just ain’t no matter, “Happy Holidays to all, and to all a good night!”
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