Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

The Fight Before Christmas

Poetry By: Patri Poe
Humor



Parody of a Visit from St. Nick


Submitted:Jan 28, 2013    Reads: 44    Comments: 5    Likes: 4   


The Fight Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Mark had set his booby traps with painstaking care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The family was nestled, all snug in their beds,

While nightmares of last year's ambush raced through their heads.

Mark, in his fatigues and camouflaged hat,

Had just assumed position by lying down flat.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Mark sprang from his post to see what was the matter.

Away to the window, he tiptoed to peek,

Quickly touching up the face paint on his cheek.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow

Gave no indication there were landmines below.

Mark chuckled and grinned when he saw it appear,

a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

He prayed that the grease on the roof was still thick,

For he knew who it was - it was St. Nick.

And then in a moment he heard on the roof

The skidding and sliding of each little hoof.

Mark laughed to himself without making a sound

As he watched the sleigh plummet to the ground.

He tore open the shutters and ripped off the sash

And took a quick potshot at old St. Nick's ass.

The jolly elf's mouth drew up like a bow

As he dove to the ground to avoid the blow.

More rapid than eagles Mark's bullets they flew,

Only missing St. Nick by an inch or two.

A landmine went off and Mark started to cheer

As the sky became filled with pieces of deer.

The elf's cheeks were blackened, his beard on fire;

He raced for his sled, but hit a tripwire.

The claymore was detonated as Mark had preplanned

And up through the window flew a little elf hand.

In the wink of an eye, the maimed Santa Claus fled,

Yelling obscenities as he jumped in his sled.

Mark launched four grenades with only two throws

And into the snow fell a little red nose.

Still clenching grenade pins tight in his teeth,

He watched smoke encircle the elf like a wreath.

With only three deer left, the sled took to flight,

so Mark grabbed his M60 to finish the fight.

Shots rang out as Mark started to cheer,

"I missed you this time but I'll getcha next year!"





4

| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.