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‘Twas the week before Xmas, the sunlight was pale.
The presents I ordered are not in the mail.
The payments were made a full month in advance,
or early enough to leave little to chance.

When what to my wandering mind should transpire,
but the prospect of tag via telephone wire
with an answering service who doesn’t know squat,
and an outstanding check, and a balance of WHAT?

It’s too late to hassle, and nothing else works.
I can’t send a present, for dealing with jerks.
But if the mail-order will get the stuff here,
I’ll try to have something in time for next year.

Twinkle Twinkle chocolate bar
Santa drives a rusty car
Press the starter
Press the choke
Off he goes in a cloud of smoke!

Q: Why is a reindeer like a gossip?

A: Because they are both tail bearers!

Q: How do you make a slow reindeer fast?

A: Don’t feed it!

Q: Why did the reindeer wear black boots?

A: Because his brown ones were all muddy!

Q: How long should a reindeer’s legs be?

A: Just long enough to reach the ground!

1. The gift of a free membership to weight watchers.

2. The “Monica gift set including a cigar, beret, and stain remover.

3. A ride-on vacuum cleaner – especially when she is expecting her favorite perfume.

4. A free consultation with Dr. Kevorkian.

5. A Solar powered flashlight.

6. A voucher for a free pap smear.

7. A ten dollar gift certificate to McDonalds.

8. Membership in Fruitcake of the month club.

9. The same lousy present that they gave you last year that you never opened and didn’t know how to get rid of it.

10. A guide to marital happiness from your spouse.

The night before Chreemas, on Thorsday I theenk,
I go to cantina to geet me a dreenk.
I dreenk saam tequila, I dreenk eet too fast,
Preety damn queek, I fall on my ass.

I peek myself up and go home to bed,
I pool the cobija up ober my head.
Early next morning, or late een the night,
I heer such damn recket, I theenk eet’s a fight.

I geet outta bed, I don feel very well,
My head ees too beeg, eet hort me like hell.
I go to the weendow, I don believe what I see,
A pot-bellied greengo, as plain as can be.

I looook at heez ropa, ees all colored red,
He got heem some chivos tied on to a sled.
I yella and I holler, “Hey, move your fat ass,
Your chivos–they chit on my grass!”

He torn to heez goats, he say just one word,
And them damn chivos chomp in the air like a bord.
They corcle around, and then queek as a mouse,
He land that damn sled on top of my house.

They chaking their horns and stomping hees hoof,
I theenk they damn chore play hell with my roof.
I heer theze ole man chout loud and clear,
“What the hell, Rodriquez, ain’t no cheemney up here…”

“No door, no weendow, nothing but air,
How I gon geev you theze goverment welfare?”
Then right away theze Rodriquez see—
He gon get heemself something for free.

So he says to the greengo, “Please come een senior,
Do come on down and use the front door.”
So, he come een the house, and upon heez broad back,
He is carry one hell of beeg gony sack.

He puut theze beeg sack down on the floor,
And start pooling out comida galore.
He pool out tortillas, tamales and ham,
He pool out a cheekin and haff of a lamb.

He pool out cervesa and a bottle of wine,
I cannot believe that theze eez all mine!
I’m theenking, “Rodriquez, you locky by heck,
Theze chore as hell beats unemployment sheck.”

So he chakes out heez boles and dreenk some of my wine,
And cosses hees chivos to get them een line.
He cosses and hollers, he knows every one,
“Chingow, Cabron, Yo, Son of a gon.”

That ole man he know how to puut on a chow,
Trying to make them damn chivos get up and go.
At last he get them to chom een the sky,
And the last time I see heem, he preety damn high.

He going away and the last theeng I heeer,

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