dustin’ it off again (our xmas tradition)

by sean ~ December 24th, 2004. Filed under: Uncategorized.

this one goes WAY back…

like, it predates the whore. i don’t know if i started this in high school or college or what, but i was cleaning out an old filing cabinet and came across a half written white trash version of the night before xmas. i went ahead and polished it up, finished it up, and now bring it to you, date of origin unknown, for the holidays. destined to be a xmas classic…or so i’ll keep telling my self.

xmas in l-town

twas the night before xmas in a small redneck town
people cracked open their j.d. and swigged it on down
i drove out to the to the trailer – parked my truck on the grass
and crashed out on the sofa ’cause the wife had bad gas
she was passed out in our bed from pearl lights by the dozen
and i had to ask myself, “why’d i marry my cousin?”
the boy had crashed, too…been in bed since ’round nine
coulda bought him a gift, but the fucker ain’t mine

when out on the front porch i heard this loud crash
and saw some fat bastard fall into my trash
he wreaked of cheap bourbon, he walked with a limp
he had a zz top beard, and was dressed like a pimp
by my dead el camino i saw some deer and a sleigh,
craving venison sausage i yelled, “fuckin’ a!”
reached up on the wall rack, grabbed my 30 ought 6
summbitch had NINE reindeer, now he’s only got six

turned my sights on his drunk ass and he yelled, “vernon QUIT!!!
…i’m here to bring presents, not repo your shit!!!”
“how do you know my name?”, i asked with a sneer
and when the fat fuck stepped forward he had knocked over my beer
“i’m saint nick, you dumb ass”, sir tubby replied
“and this is the one day that luck’s on your side…
i know your name and your address, and where you keep your porn
i even know what your wife did backstage with koRn
i know your daughter’s a crack whore, that’s why she’s on the pill
i know your son molests kittens, and i discovered your still
but it doesn’t really matter if you’ve been nice or naughty
’cause you’ve got the spirit of xmas sighted out in your ‘oughty
just don’t pull the trigger, you could end up way rich
’cause right now kris kringle is REALLY your bitch”.

that last sentence hung out there like it was up by a nail
and i got a brief flashback from time i spent in jail
but tossed that thought out like a big load of tripe
’cause jerry garcia look-a-likes just ain’t my type

“all right you fat bastard, go on as you planned…
…but before that ol’ vernon here has some demands
i want a new truck, a triple wide, and a case of j.d.
and a big as fuck tv to watch w.w.e.
in the bedroom, a waterbed, and a chrome stripper pole
and to dance for my pleasure, i want anna nicole!!

he snapped his fat fingers, and POOF all appeared
i lowered my weapon, the old guy actually cheered
there was the house, the whiskey, and a ford made of green
then out on the dirt road pulled a pink limousine
out of it stepped anna, looking like the guess girl of yore
and i felt my lower jaw drop down to the floor
the old guy ran to his sleigh, drew up what was left of his team
and took off into the sky faster than a laser beam
but i heard him yell back as he flashed us a smile,
“even white trash deserve happiness every once in a while!”