’Twas the night before Christmas
and I was alone drinking gin,
Evicted from my apartment,
now at a Holiday Inn.
The bar room was empty
except for a lush,
and the bartender sighed
in an obvious rush.
I hunched on the bar,
confounded with woe,
with nothing to do
and no place to go.
I paid my tab and
wandered outside,
not to see the world
but only to hide.
When out in the parking lot there
arose such a clatter.
I cautiously ambled to
see what was the matter.
I tip toed silently, sticking
to shade,
in the hopes that I wouldn’t be seen or
be made.
When what to my shock
did appear:
a Cadillac-driving pimp
drinking a beer.
An odd little fellow
with a feather-in-cap,
he had a pet marmot nestled
in his lap.
He smiled at me and
called himself Slinky,
and pushed up his yellow glasses
with a cocaine-nailed pinky.
From the motel his train of ladies,
they came,
and he whistled and shouted
and called them by name.
“Hey Angel, hey Autumn,
hey Zoe, hey Mindy…
Oh Desire and Summer and
Candy and Cindy!
Off to the bars and clubs,
to go find a john,
Now get away, get away,
don’t make me wait long!”
Then Slinky sped off like a bat
out of Hell,
where he was off to I couldn’t
quite tell.
I moved back to the motel
in search of my room,
overcome by depression from this
holiday gloom,
when I was ambushed by the junkie Jack
and his girlfriend named Jill:
who demanded my wallet with a gun,
and threatened to kill.
As I raised up my hands and was
turning around,
a humongous club-wielding biker
struck Jack to the ground.
He was covered in tattoos with
chains from his belt,
and fists the size of rackets
which junkie Jill surely felt.
His black boots were steel-toed
which he used to kick Jack,
until crazy Jill killed him with a shot
to the back.
His eyes, how they clouded,
as he bled out and died;
Jack and Jill they did split
while I sat there and cried.
The cops and paramedics on his big belly
did press,
but his life was long gone
and he was a killer no less.
I continued to my room in desperate need of a
drink,
or a shot of morphine and a quality
shrink.
From the elevator entrance I could see from
afar,
the door to my motel room was splintered and
ajar.
I found inside a woman grinding a man’s lap,
but she secretly worked vice, was a cop,
the poor sap!
My shoulders were sagged as I left my
motel,
essentially convinced I was truly
in Hell.
When walking to nowhere I met a fat drunk bum,
dressed like Santa and pissing while guzzling
rum.
He smiled at me with a drunken delight,
My god he was filthy, his teeth such a fright.
Without warning he threw his bottle at my
head,
shattering and making me wish
I were dead.
The bum rolled me while down and then ran
up the street,
obviously facing a last call
he was eager to beat.
Before he departed he looked back to me that fat shmuck,
and said “Merry Christmas to you,
you miserable fuck!”
No comments:
Post a Comment