How I Tried To Kill Santa

Image by Gundula Vogel from Pixabay

Do you remember when you were young?
What Christmas really meant?
Many sleepless nights before
Opening Christmas presents?

Do you remember writing Santa,
Pleading for toys you’d want?
Leaving milk and cookies,
And carrots for old Rudolph.

Do you remember when joy abound,
Faces poached with endless smiles?
Holiday music filled the air,
And red and green were in style.

I remember those days fondly,
And held them close for years.
It was just last year, however,
When Christmas brought me to tears

You see, about this time last year,
For my girlfriend, I bought a present.
A holiday gesture of love,
To show her how much she meant.

I gave her a cute little kitten,
An adorable little thing.
And I thought it be befitting
That “Santa” be his name.

I wrapped him in a cute red bow
And gave him to my love.
She cooed and thanked me up and down.
That cat fit her like a glove.

Her face just brimmed with joy.
I had made a good impression.
She squeezed that kitten and squeezed him tight,
And gave him loving affection.

She loved that cat, although still new,
And a little too much I’d say.
For just as soon as she’d received it,
All her attention seemed to sway.

Well, no big deal really,
Her love could be shared with two.
Though I thought her loyalty strong,
I had no idea what I was into.

I treated that cat as though my own,
And respect I felt I’d earned it.
But as things turned out, abrupt to me,
To cats I seemed allergic.

I started to sniff and itch and sneeze.
My nose leaked like a well.
My vision began to blur
As my eyes began to swell.

My body got real itchy,
My mouth it got real dry,
My breathing got real weak,
I felt as if I’d die.

And if it weren’t bad enough,
My body going into arrest,
Santa continued to play with me
as if my fortitude he was trying to test.

Upon the couch I laid to die,
And upon my face he crawled.
I tried and tried to push him off,
But he continued his playful brawl.

I started to get annoyed,
As my patience began to wane.
I took a casual swipe at him,
But his enthusiasm only gained.

He started to use his claws
In a playful little maul,
And it seemed fairly innocent enough,
Until blood he began to draw.

It was evident enough that this little runt
Was set to cause me grief.
You wouldn’t think such a small thing
Could cause such pain beyond belief.

He scratched again and I let out a yell,
As my girlfriend she rushed to see.
I was struggling with the little rat,
But she began to yell at me.

I showed her my fresh cut wounds
and scars that would certainly be,
But she didn’t seem to care about that,
As she bitterly scolded me.

The worst was over, or so I thought,
So I laid back down for rest.
The battle with Santa seemed to start
A contest for household best.

I fell asleep, and as I did,
That rodent ate my tie.
He gnawed my clothes, my shoes, my socks,
Then advanced to flog my eyes.

Well, luckily I awoke in time,
Before he had the chance
To remove an eye or both
Or devour the rest of my pants.

It was now quite plainly clear,
Satan’s messenger he was,
And his mission upon our earth
Was to destroy my happy Christmas.

As I daunted the sleep from my bones
Of Santa I would emancipate.
He jumped up upon my head again
And proceeded to urinate.

That was it, the very last straw,
It was me or the beast she’d have to lose.
However, as I consider the options,
I knew which one she’d choose.

I had to rid my life of that critter
With an accident I would try.
For it was then that with conviction,
I felt that Santa would have to die.

I set out on my task
to rid this house of doom,
And in the air, a blustery fate,
Of challenge did fill the room.

I had to think concise and quick.
My actions I had to temper.
For as I rid myself of this menace,
My relationship I could not hamper.

I made for the closet in a rush,
My old shotgun I did seize.
Quickly loaded it with shells
And set out for that mangy fleece

When I found him in the corner,
In attack stance he stood poised.
He glared at me with beady red eyes,
As we stood there without noise.

I raised the gun and took my aim,
My brow began to sweat.
He budged not an inch and kept his sneer,
And with hissing I was met.

I clenched my teeth and peered at him,
The trigger I began to pull.
When suddenly I was met with stars,
Struck with a garden tool.

When I awoke in the street,
I was battered and bloody soaked.
All my possessions lying next to me,
With a hateful good-bye note.

As unfortunate as it may seem
My girlfriend, she is done.
But I can’t really say I’m sad.
Especially now that HE is gone.

I suppose he got the best of me,
And this is true because,
I stand here with twelve stitches.
On account of Santa’s claws

(Copyright 1999 Peter Gasca)

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