My hands were all shaky,
my face had gone pale.
A letter from santa
just arrived in the mail!
It was hand written
in old fashioned ink pen.
It was hndsomely printed
and dated twelve ten.
"Dear Calvin," it said,
"I'm writing because
this year I've repealed
my naughty nice laws.
So now I urge you:
Be vulgar and crude!
I like it when children
are boorish and rude!
Burp at the table!
Gargle your peas!
Never say 'Thank you,'
'your welcome,' or
'please.'
Talk back to your mother!
Don't do as your told!
Stick your tongue out
at your dad if he scolds!
Drive everyone crazy,
I really don't care!
Act like a jerk,
anytime, anywhere!
I'm changing the rules!
The BAD girls and boys
will be, from now on,
the ones who get toys!
Good little kids make
me sick, its no joke.
Sincerely, Signed Santa."
...And then I awoke.
I hate being good
(or trying to fake it).
Six days until Christmas!
I don't think I'll make it.
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