'Twas the night afore Christmas, just after I had retired to bed.
Tired after a long flight, I couldn't sleep because of a sound I thought I heard.
I peered out of my window, to investigate the sound I thought I heard;
But I saw nothing but pools of a color I thought was red.
Surely this had to be an illusion; was the red wine starting to get to my head?
Then I heard a loud thud downstairs; it seemed there was an intruder in my abode.
And then there was an eerie silence, which was suddenly interrupted by a harmonious chord.
Reaching for my death-stick, I decided I was going to investigate the chord that was vibrating in my abode.
Stealthy, I crept downstairs; wondering about the intruder who was playing chords in my abode.
The sight that confronted me when I got downstairs, I could never forget.
'Twas a chubby man with a snow-white beard; clothed in a shade of red I might never forget.
His visage looked friendly; though he had an unhappy look I can't ever forget.
My intention to bludgeon him vanished; if I harmed him, I knew I would ever regret.
I walked briskly towards him, with the rhythm of a newly-recruited army Cadette.
"You really exist", I said, "I thought everything they said about your existence was a lie!"
But he never looked up to speak to me; he just buried his face in his hands and proceeded to cry.
"Why do you cry dear Santa?", I said, "Why is your disposition acerbic and dry?"
"I don't mean to pry", I again said to Santa, "but do tell me why you cry when everyone else's spirits are high?"
He didn't answer me until I said, "Speak, or fly back to whichever part of the sky you come from. Goodbye!"
Then suddenly, he said, "The stuff you saw in 'Bad Santa' is all true. There is not a single lie."
"I smoke. I drink. I'm supposed to stop but I can't", said Santa, as he again started to cry.
"I'm a dirty old man", he said as he cried profusely, "Oh I'm tired of living a lie!"
"It's alright dear Santa", I replied indifferently, "Please don't continue to cry. In fact, I can see from your bloodshot eyes that you are indeed high."
"But I'm not going to judge you, Santa", I said intending to cut him short, "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you why."
"My reindeer got butchered by that moose-hunting hockey-mom", said Santa, "I have nothing to travel with."
"And the elves are on strike. I lost their retirement money in Madoff's scheme", continued Santa, "I have nothing to repay them with."
"Oh, the little angels out there won't be getting Christmas presents from me", he added as he sobbed, "I have nothing to appease them with."
"Oh, poor you", I sympathetically replied Santa, "I wonder what I have to help you with?"
"The SS Chirinda", I thought out loud, "I only board her three times a year!"
"I really don't need that boat" I thought, "I'm going to do something good to help out little boys and girls this year!"
"You can have my yacht, Santa", I said, "Sell it, and use the proceeds to buy toys for little boys and girls, so they have something this year!"
"Oh!", replied Santa, "I couldn't accept your boat. You worked so hard to buy it. Didn't you have to save for it for a whole year?"
I ignored Santa as I dragged him to the harbor, and gave him the keys to my yacht.
He started her and started to sail-off in my seventy foot yacht.
"Where are you sailing off to?", I asked Santa, as he sailed off into the depths of the night.
"Sucker!", yelled back Santa, "Didn't I tell you that I was a bad Santa?"
"I'm sailing-off to the Gulf of Aden, and if you want your yacht back, you're going to have to pay me a ransom!"
"What?", I yelled, "You are a pirate, who steals yachts and demands a ransom?"
"Yes!", said Santa, "I was one of the 'haves', now I am one of the 'have-yachts'!"
"Merry Christmas! Ho-ho-ho-with-a-bottle-of-rum!", he yelled, as he sailed off into the night aboard my yacht.
