A Holiday Tradition (sic)

Twas the Night Before Christmas

at a Drug House

by A Very Sick and Twisted Person

(with a morbid, sick sense of humor, yours truly; it doesn’t rhyme)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,

it got in our stash and overdosed.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

cause I was running around in the snow in my socks in hopes that

Nick soon would be there, cause he was holding.

My buds were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of oxy danced in their heads.
And Mama in her sweats, and I in my t-shirt,
had just settled our brains with some really good smoke.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Cops and a SWAT team, it’s a raid.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw out the stash.

Staring at a .45 and tazer.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

and me cuffed on the ground

gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a sleigh and eight reindeer, that smoke was laced.

A little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Nick with a delivery.
More rapid than eagles, he drove by,
and he whistled and shouted and waved to the cops by name:

"Now Dasher! Now Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!

On came the lights and out came the stop sticks.

Nick joins me cuffed on the ground.

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the helicopters flew,
with the cabin full of SWAT.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of every one of those SOB’s.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney a fat man came with a bound.

He was dressed in black kevlar, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of weapons he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a mercenary just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were rosey, his nose red as a cherry, 

same as an alcoholic!

His droll little mouth was drawn up with a sinister grin,
and the beard on his chin was full of something white as snow.
A one hitter he held tight in his teeth,
and familiar smoke encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly; 

too many Oreo's and Taco Bell,

that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself,

tweakers can spot each other.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled bags with evidence, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose, 

leaned down to the table and giving a snort,

backup the chimney he rose.

He sprang into the chopper, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he flew out of sight,

Got us some good shit tonight.

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

For all my new readers here are links to my past holiday posts:

2012 - I Didn't Know This Program Existed

2011 - Santa Is A Fat Man

2010 - The Spirit Of The Holidays