Nobody knows my reputation.

Saturday, December 17, 2005

Mad Santa

And you thought YOUR job sucked?

'Twas the night before Christmas. Old Santa was pissed.
He cussed out the elves. He threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks,
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works!

I've busted my ass for damn near a year.
Instead of "Thanks Santa," what do I hear?
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night,
The elves want more money. The reindeer all fight.

Donner is pregnant and Vixen has crabs,
Rudolph got busted outside his meth lab.
And just when I thought that things would get better,
Those assholes from the IRS sent me a letter,
They say I owe taxes -- if THAT ain't damn funny,
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?

And the kids these days, they all are the pits,
They want the impossible -- those mean little shits.
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds,
Assembling dolls -- their arms, legs and heads.
I made a ton of yo yo's. No request for them,
They want computers and robots -- they think I'm IBM!

Flying through the air, dodging the trees,
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees.
I'm quitting this job there's just no enjoyment,
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment.

There's no Christmas this year. Wanna know the reason?
I found me a blonde. I'm headed SOUTH for the season!


Advanced beyond all that you can possibly comprehend with 100% of your brain.

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