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Disclaimer: Parts of this parody would make Clint Eastwood’s character in “Gran Torino” proud. This parody involves a Vietnam Vet in the midst of a flashback. I am not mocking Veterans with malicious intent as they do a great service to our country and I respect that. This is a parody; it is all in good fun, meant for a tasteless laugh. Please do not take offense to it or take this personally.
Every Christmas story that is told is full of happiness and joy. We all know that the world is not all perfect like these stories portray. I’m an asshole and of course I will think of a way to ruin that holiday spirit. Just think about it for a minute… Santa is a guy who comes into your home at night, unannounced, while you are sleeping. If anyone besides a jolly old fat guy in a red suit does that, he is facing criminal trespassing charges at least. Even worse, what if Santa was a victim of circumstance where an intruder is shot by the home owner? You hear stories of Vietnam Vets that have flashbacks… What if Santa were to arrive when some poor bastard is having a hallucination of war and took him out? Well this is where an asshole can step in and play out this thought.
Here is an asshole’s version of “It was the night before Christmas." I should stick to rants, not quite sure I am cut out for this...
It was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, except a man with visions of Charlie sleeping quietly like a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
So was a 12 gauge shotgun and St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their bed,
While visions of dead gooks in their Dad's heads.
And mamma slumbered in fear, while he snoozed in his army cap,
He dreamed of sending gook brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The man sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, memories back like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and went for the ammunition stash.
There is soon to be blood on the new-fallen snow
Santa has now idea what awaits in the household below.
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight zipper heads that are really reindeer.
And then, in a twinkling, He heard stomps of boots,
The prancing and pawing of each little gook foot.
As he drew his old gun, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
This poor bastard was about to be a goner, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The sound of the shotgun pump as he gritted his teeth,
And the smoke from the barrel encircled the gun like a wreath.
Santa had a broad face and a little round belly,
That bullet with through his suit, like a bowlful of jelly!
not a creature was stirring, except a man with visions of Charlie sleeping quietly like a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
So was a 12 gauge shotgun and St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their bed,
While visions of dead gooks in their Dad's heads.
And mamma slumbered in fear, while he snoozed in his army cap,
He dreamed of sending gook brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The man sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, memories back like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and went for the ammunition stash.
There is soon to be blood on the new-fallen snow
Santa has now idea what awaits in the household below.
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight zipper heads that are really reindeer.
And then, in a twinkling, He heard stomps of boots,
The prancing and pawing of each little gook foot.
As he drew his old gun, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
This poor bastard was about to be a goner, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The sound of the shotgun pump as he gritted his teeth,
And the smoke from the barrel encircled the gun like a wreath.
Santa had a broad face and a little round belly,
That bullet with through his suit, like a bowlful of jelly!
With a loaded old shotgun, so lively and quick,
He shot the gook but it was really St Nick.
More rapid than arrows the bullets they came,
And he screamed, and shouted, and saying his name!
He shot the gook but it was really St Nick.
More rapid than arrows the bullets they came,
And he screamed, and shouted, and saying his name!
"Now Slope! Now, Rice-eater! Now, Frog and Chink!
On, Slant! On, Gook, on Nip and Dink!
He’s shooting from the porch! He’s shooting through the wall!
Now get the fuck away! Get the fuck away! Get the fuck away all!"
On, Slant! On, Gook, on Nip and Dink!
He’s shooting from the porch! He’s shooting through the wall!
Now get the fuck away! Get the fuck away! Get the fuck away all!"
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
The man taunted the gook, in spite of himself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave a hint that the old fat man was dead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, because he felt like a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He put on the suit and up the chimney he rose!
The man taunted the gook, in spite of himself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave a hint that the old fat man was dead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, because he felt like a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He put on the suit and up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to the sleigh, to the team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"I fucking ruined Christmas for all, and now I’m fucked for the night!"
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"I fucking ruined Christmas for all, and now I’m fucked for the night!"
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