The lights in a nearby health manor invited Topper to rap on the door. An attractive lady opened the door and asked what she could do for him. He told her his problem and wondered if he could seek the shelter of her house until dawn, whe he would repair the flat. The lady agreed and invited him into her parlor.

One word led to another; one drink let to another; one touch led to another. Irving Topper was soon divested of his clothes and snuggling in the lady’s bed with an equally naked lady.

In the morning Topper thanked her for her hospitality, told her his name was Herman Thompson, changed his tire, and drove off.

About six months later, Topper received a call from his friend Herman Thompson.

“Hey,” said Thompson, “did you ever give my name to a lady in Rhinebeck, New York?”

“Well, yes” answered Topper. “You know I am a married man, and I have a lovely wife and child. I gave her your name because you’re a bachelor, and I didn’t want any complications. I hope I didn’t get you into any trouble.”

“No, no, on the contrary,” replied his friend. “Her lawyer called me to inform me that I had inherited the manor and the lady’s entire estate!”

After a trip to the bathroom he was able to make his way downstairs, where his wife put some coffee in front of him.

“Louise,” he moaned, “Tell me what went on last night. Was it as bad as I think?”

“Even worse,” she assured him in her most scornful tone. “You made a complete ass of yourself.

You succeeded in antagonizing the entire board of directors, and insulted the chairman of the company to his face.”

“He’s an arrogant, self-important prick, piss on him!”

“You did. All over his suit,” Louise informed him. “And he fired you.”

“Well, screw him,” said John.

“I did, said Louise, “You’re back at work on Monday.”

Well, the hours passed and the champagne was going down way to easy. Around 3 a.m., drunk as a skunk, I headed for home.

Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times.

Quickly, realizing he’d probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution especially since I was smashed, in order to avoid a conflict with him.

The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him 12 o’clock. He didn’t seem disturbed at all. Whew! Got away with that one!

Then he said, “We need a new cuckoo clock.”

When I asked him why, he said, “Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said, “Oh crap!”, cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it’s throat, cuckooed another 3 times,giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then farted.”

I’ve been here for hours, I can’t stop to rest. This room’s a disaster, just look at this mess!

Tomorrow I’ve got forty people to feed. They expect all the trimmings. Who cares what I need!

My feet are both blistered, and cramps in my legs. The cat just knocked over a bowl full of eggs.

There’s a knock at the door and the telephone’s ringing; Frosting drips on the counter as the microwave’s dinging.

Two pies in the oven, desserts almost done, My cookbook is soiled with butter and crumbs.

I’ve had all I can stand, I can’t take anymore; Then in walks my husband, spilling bourbon on the floor.

He weaves and he wobbles, his balance unsteady; Then grins as he chuckles “The eggnog is ready!”

He looks all around and with total regret, Says, “What’s taking so long…. Aren’t you through in here yet??”

As quick as a flash I reach for a knife; He loses an earlobe; I wanted his life!

He flees from the room in terror and pain, And screams “MY GOD WOMAN, YOU’RE GOING INSANE!!”

Now what was I doing, and what is that smell? Oh damn it’s the pies!! They’re burned all to hell!!

I hate to admit when I make a mistake, But I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE.

What else can go wrong?? Is there still more ahead? If this is good living, I’d rather be dead.

Lord, don’t get me wrong, I love holidays; It just leaves me exhausted, all shaky and dazed.

But I promise you one thing, If I live till next year, You won’t find me pulling my hair out in here.

I’ll hire a maid, a cook, and a waiter! And if that doesn’t work, I’LL HAVE IT ALL CATERED!!!

A variety of foot apparel, e.g. stocking, socks, etc., had been affixed by and around the chimney in said House in the hope and/or belief that St. Nick a.k.a. St. Nicholas a.k.a. Santa Claus (hereinafter “Claus”) would arrive at sometime thereafter. The minor residents, i.e. the children, of the aforementioned House were located in their individual beds and were engaged in nocturnal hallucinations, i.e. dreams, wherein vision of confectionery treats, including, but not limited to, candies, nuts and/or sugar plums, did dance, cavort and otherwise appear in said dreams.

Whereupon the party of the first part (sometimes hereinafter referred to as “I”), being the joint owner in fee simple of the House with the parts of the second part (hereinafter “Mamma”), and said Mamma had retired for a sustained period of sleep. (At such time, the parties were clad in various forms of headgear, e.g. kerchief and cap.)

Suddenly, and without prior notice or warning, there did occur upon the unimproved real property adjacent and appurtenant to said House, i.e. the lawn, a certain disruption of unknown nature, cause and/or circumstance. The party of the first part did immediately rush to a window in the House to investigate the cause of such disturbance. At that time, the party of the first part did observe, with some degree of wonder and/or disbelief, a miniature sleigh (hereinafter “the Vehicle”) being pulled and/or drawn very rapidly through the air by approximately eight (8) reindeer. The driver of the Vehicle appeared to be and in fact was, the previously referenced Claus. Said Claus was providing specific direction, instruction and guidance to the approximately eight (8) reindeer and specifically identified the animal co-conspirators by name: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen (hereinafter “the Deer”). (Upon information and belief, it is further asserted that an additional co-conspirator named “Rudolph” may have been involved.)

The party of the first part witnessed Claus, the Vehicle and the Deer intentionally and willfully trespass upon the roofs of several residences located adjacent to and in the vicinity of the House, and noted that the Vehicle was heavily laden with packages, toys and other items of unknown origin or nature. Suddenly, without prior invitation or permission, either express or implied, the Vehicle arrived at the House, and Claus entered said House via the chimney. Said Claus was clad in a red fur suit, which was partially covered with residue from the chimney, and he carried a large sack containing a portion of the aforementioned packages, toys and other unknown items. He was smoking what appeared to be tobacco in a small pipe in blatant violation of local ordinances and health regulations.

Claus did not speak, but immediately began to fill the stocking of the minor children, which hung adjacent to the chimney, with toys and other small gifts. (Said items did not, however, constitute “gifts” to said minor pursuant to the applicable provisions of the U.S. Tax Code.) Upon completion of such task, Claus touched the side of his nose and flew, rose and/or ascended up the chimney of the House to the roof where the Vehicle and Deer waited and/or served as “lookouts.” Claus immediately departed for an unknown destination.

However, prior to the departure of the Vehicle, Deer and Claus from said House, the party of the first part did hear Claus state and/or exclaim: “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!” Or words to that effect.

‘Twas the night before Payback and all through the land,

The Taliban are running like rabbits in Afghanistan.

Osama’s been praying, he’s down on his knees,

He’s hoping that Allah will hear all his pleas.

He thought if he killed us that we’d fall and shatter,

But all that he’s done is just make us madder.

We haven’t yet forgotten our Marines in Beirut,

And we’ll kick your ass, with one heavy boot.

And yes we remember the USS Cole,

And the lives of our sailors that you bastards stole.

You think you can rule us and cause us to fear,

You’ll soon get the answer if you live to hear.

And we ain’t forgotten your buddy Saddam,

And he ain’t forgotten the sound of our bombs.

You think that those mountains are somewhere to hide,

They’ll go down in history as the place where you died.

Remember Khadhafi and his line of death?

He came very close, to his final breath.

So come out and prove it, that you are a man,

Cause our boys are coming and they have a plan.

They are our Fathers and they are our Sons,

And they sure do carry some mighty big Guns.

They would have stayed home, with Children and Wives,

Till you bastards came here and took all these Lives.

Osama I wrote this especially for you,

For air mail delivery by B-52.

You soon will be hearing a thud and a whistle,

Old Glory is coming, attached to a missile.

I won’t be sorry to see your cowardly ass go,

It’s Red, White, and Blue that’s running this show!

Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat. The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat. The doors were all bolted, the phone off the hook, It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook. Momma in her teddy and I in the nude, Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.

When out on the lawn there arose such a cry, That I lost my boner, and momma went dry. Up to the window I sprang like an elf, Tore back the shade while she played with herself. The moon on the crest of the snowman we’d built, Shoved a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer. With a fat little driver, half out of the sled, A sock in his ear and a bra on his head. Sure as I’m speaking, he was high as a kite, And he yelled to his team, but it didn’t sound right.

Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz, Either slow down this rig or I’ll cut off your nuts. Look out for the lamp post, and don’t hit the tree, Quit shaking the sleigh, ’cause I gotta go pee. They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub, Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.

And then from the roof we heard such a spatter, As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder. I was donning my jockies, to cover my ass, When down the chimney Santa came with a crash. His suit was all smelly with perfume galore, He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.

“That was some brothel,” he said with a smile, “The reindeer are pooped, and I’ll just stay awhile” He walked to the kitchen for himself poured a drink, Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink. I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee, The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.

Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack, But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed. The first thing he found was a pair of false tits, The first thing he found was a pair of false tits, The next was a handgun with a penis that spits. A box filled with condoms was Santa’s next find, And six pair of panties, the edible kind. A bra without nipples, a penis extension, And several more things I shouldn’t even mention. A fuck ring, a G-string, and all types of oil, And a dildo so long that it lay in a coil.

“This stuff ain’t for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit, So I’ll leave ‘em here. and then I’ll just split.” He filled every stocking and then took his leave, With one tiny butt plug stuck under his sleeve. He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead, Thus he fell on his ass and farted instead. In time he was seated, took reigns of his hitch, Saying, “Take me home, Rudolph. This night’s been a bitch!”

The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout, “The best thing about pussy is you can’t wear it out!!”

T’was the night before christmas- Old Santa was pissed

He cussed out the elves and through 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 reindeers all fight

Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids

Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS

And just when I thought that things would get better

Those assholes from 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 litttle 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

If you thinks that bad…just picture this

Try holding their pants full of piss

They pull on my nose they grab at my beard

And if I don’t smile the parents think I’m wierd

Flying through the air…dodging the trees

Falling down chimmneys and skinning their 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…. now you know the reason

I found me a blonde …I’m going south for the season

The doors were all bolted, the phone off the hook, It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.

Momma in her teddy and I in the nude, Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.

When out on the lawn there arose such a cry, That I lost my boner, and momma went dry.

Up to the window I sprang like an elf, Tore back the shade while she played with herself.

The moon on the crest of the snowman we’d built, Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.

With a fat little driver, half out of the sled, A sock in his ear and a bra on his head.

Sure as I’m speaking, he was high as a kite, And he yelled to his team, but it didn’t sound right.

Whoa S**thead, whoa A**hole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz, Either slow down this rig or I’ll cut off your nuts.

Look out for the lamp post, and don’t hit the tree, Quit shaking the sleigh, ’cause I gotta go pee.

They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub, Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.

And then from the roof we heard such a clatter, As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.

I was donning my jockeys, to cover my ass, When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.

His suit was all smelly with perfume galore, He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.

“That was some brothel,” he said with a smile, “The reindeer are pooped, and I’ll just stay awhile”

He walked to the kitchen for himself poured a drink, Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.

I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee, The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.

Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack, But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.

The first thing he found was a pair of false tits, The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.

A box filled with condoms was Santa’s next find, And six pair of panties, the edible kind.

A bra without nipples, a penis extension, And several more things I shouldn’t even mention.

A f**k ring, a G-string, and all types of oil, And a dildo so long that it lay in a coil. “This stuff ain’t for kids, Mrs. Santa will s**t, Do I’ll leave ‘em here, and then I’ll just split.”

He filled every stocking and then took his leave, With one tiny butt plug stuck under his sleeve.

He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead, Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.

In time he was seated, took reigns of his hitch, Saying, “Take me home, Rudolf. This night’s been a bitch!”

The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout, “The best thing about pussy is you can’t wear it out!!”

Not a creature was stirrin’ ‘Cept a redneck named Taylor.

His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,

And a-runnin’ down his chin Was a trickle of spittle.

His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,

And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.

That Bubba got scared And rousted the boys.

There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11;

Dud goin’ on 10; Otis was 7.

John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3:

The twins were both girls So they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls, No need for a shirt,

Threw a hat on each head, Then turned with a jerk.

They ran to the gun rack That hung on the wall.

There were 17 shotguns; They grabbed them all.

Bubba said to the young’uns, “Now hesh up ya’ll!

The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw.”

Maw was expecting And needed her sleep,

So out they crept out the door without making a peep.

They all looked around, and then they all spit.

The young’uns asked Bubba, “Paw, what is it?”

Bubba just stared; He could not say a word.

This was just like all of the stories he’d heard.

It was Santy Claus on the roof, Darn tootin’

But the boys didn’t know; They was about to start shootin’!

They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake

That would have resulted in venison steak.

Bubba hollered out, “Don’t shoot, boys!”

That’s Santy Claus And he’s brought us some toys.

The dogs were a-barkin’ And a-raisin’ cain,

And Bubba whistled, and shouted, And called them by name.

“Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe!

Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!”

“Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall!

Quit shakin the trailer, Or you’ll make Santy fall!”

The dogs kept a-barkin’ And wouldn’t shut up,

And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup.

Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.

Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys.

Since the guns had been dropped He just might not die.

He jumped in his sleigh, Told his reindeer to hurry.

The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry.

Just as the reindeer Got into the air,

The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn’t care.

He was busy lookin’ At all his new toys.

Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys:

“Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she’s all right.

That roof fallin’ on her Could-a hurt just a might.”

But Maw was OK, And the girls were too.

They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new.

And as for Bubba, He liked Old St. Nick,

But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas, And the boys did, too.

And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you!