THE LAST CHRISTMAS by D.M. Anderson

A bit of Yuletide cheer from FREE KITTENS MOVIE GUIDE


On the eve of last Christmas I turned out the lights;

I tucked in my daughter and wished her goodnight. 

“Tomorrow is Christmas!” she uttered with joy

“When Santa brings presents to good girls and boys!”

“That’s right, little princess,” I replied with a grin

“But you must be asleep for Saint Nick to come in.”

With a smile and a giggle, she closed her eyes tight,
Trying her best to fall asleep for the night.

After closing her door, I walked down the hall

To where my wife snoozed, oblivious to all.

I climbed into bed without making a peep

And stole back some blankets for a warm winter’s sleep.

As I began to drift off, my mind wandered free;

I pictured my little Natalie, circling the tree,

Gasping with joy when she saw her new bike -

A thank you from Santa for leaving cookies he liked.

I heard a sudden noise - it came from downstairs.

Could it possibly be there was someone down there?

I opened my eyes and stifled a scream;

I heard it again - not part of my dream!

I climbed out of bed and ran ‘cross the floor

And gingerly opened my top dresser drawer.

Heart beating madly, and quaking with fear,

I pulled out the gun I got for Christmas last year.

As my wife snoozed away, thinking all was well,

I crept to the hallway and loaded some shells.

Determined to prevent being totally robbed,

I was gonna put a cap into this thieving slob.

From atop the stairs, footsteps I could hear

Of a man trying to rob us of our Christmas cheer.

I crept down the steps, cursing my bad luck;

Dammit - that bike cost me one hundred bucks!

I saw a black shadow, bent over the tree;

Consumed by his task, he didn’t see me.

Raising my pistol, I drew careful aim;

I squeezed off a shot, screaming, “Here comes the pain!”

With a big burly grunt, he fell to the ground,

And I roared in triumph, having put the perp down.

From upstairs my wife cried, “Hey, are you okay?”

I said, “Never better, ‘cause I saved Christmas day!”

I began to breathe easy, thinking all would be right,

But all of that changed when I turned on the light.

I stared at my victim and became suddenly sick;

Rolling ‘round on the floor was good ol’ Saint Nick.

Through angry clenched jaws, he stared up at me;

Clutching his wound, he screamed “You shattered my knee!”

I rushed to his side and cried, “I didn’t mean to!”

With an agonized breath he roared back, “Screw you!”

A cry from behind - and I turned to see

My horrified wife and a bawling Natalie.

“Daddy shot Santa!” she wailed in surprise;

My wife simply glared with hate in her eyes.

My mind in a panic, I threw down my gun

And ran to the phone to call 9-1-1.

My wife yelled at me, “You yuletide louse!

I knew this would happen with a gun in the house!”

I heard coming sirens, then a knock at the door;

As I answered it my kid cried, “I love you no more!”

“Report of shots fired!” said a cop in dismay;

And then he saw Santa, knee bleeding away.

Drawing his sidearm, he said with a frown,

“You shot Father Christmas and you’re goin’ down!”

I said, “I’ll explain, please listen, for God’s sake!”

He said, “I’ve busted some bastards, but you take the cake.”

They slapped me in handcuffs and hauled me away

For shooting Saint Nick and ruining Christmas day.

My wife sold the bike to pay for court costs,

Then into a filthy cell I was tossed.

I’ll always regret the shot that I fired,

For Santa said, “No more,” and then he retired.

I’m now serving time, doing twenty-to-life

With a cellmate named Bubba, who calls me his wife.