Yeah, I was angry.
The kind of angry you can only get...
...in a shopping mall.
It was a beautiful December day.
The shiny decorations were up in the store windows
And festive music was wafting through the mall air.
I was looking for a few more gifts for some of my compadres
And thinking I might stop in and say "hi" to Jenny at the Pretzel Palace...
...When I saw him...
There, in the main courtyard,
Surrounded by mobs of adoring children,
Pretending to be, St. Nicolas.
Garbed in a cheap, red, fleece suit.
Where does he get the audacity?!
And right there in the middle of the mall,
Where all humanity can gaze upon his deception!
And his obvious dissimilarity to the man he is imitating.
Even if he does sit there, gloating, on an ornate glowing thrown,
Attended by cheap, dime-store elves!
Your gut is an illusion.
I can only surmise,
That the twinkle in your eyes,
Is as false as your beard.
You fly a phony reindeer.
And your insincere mirth,
And your counterfeit girth,
Is a flaky veneer.
Granted my eyesight isn't what it used to be
After that accident with the baking soda;
But even I could see that this was not Father Christmas.
His body-fat was well below Santa-levels;
And his dark, bushy eyebrows were sticking out
From under the nappy, cottony, gobs stuck over his eyes.
And kids were sitting on his lap!
What madness is this?!
That allows parents to willfully offer up their younglings
To this Spurious Claus?!
Wherefore is the comforting protection of mall security?!
To hasten forth to lay their hands upon this
Hollow Mockery of Holiday Happiness?!
What has the world come to?!
When this Illegitimate Pseudo-Santa holds court in the midst
Of his thick-minded, commercially driven subjects?!
You're a bogus bag of jelly.
All the cookies you eat,
Are the fruit of deceit,
And they fatten your lie!
You're the charlatan of jingles.
You bamboozle yourself,
You're a humbugging elf,
And the Sugar Plums cry.
How many gallons of eggnog
Do you think we'd have to drink
Before we thought that your obesity
All that you promised is void
Because you lack the power that Santa has
That lets him do the things that he
I could hardly restrain myself from screaming out,
"Not only do you lack the dignity and grandeur of
Jolly Old St. He's-Better-Than-You-In-Every-Way,
But you also look nothing like him!"
You've got a score of holiday feasts to shove down your gullet
Before you will capture the rotund opulence of my main man Santa Clizzle!
You're far too lean to respectably inhabit
The vast fur-lined trousers of Captain Cringle.
You have no beaming, jovial jowls.
In fact, you look more like Jim Carrey
If he'd been hit repeatedly with a medium-sized toaster oven!
His are large mittens to fill indeed!
Oh! I have seen the very face of evil!
And his name is: Fake... Santa... Guy.
I conclude you're an imposter!
My stomach is sick,
When I see how trick,
In your fuzzy façade.
All your candy canes are dirty!
And I doubt when you say,
You can fly in your sleigh,
'Cause I think you're a fraud!
When I see what you did,
By confusing the kids,
I get jolly with rage!
You would play me the fool,
For a miserable Yule,
And you ruin my fudge!