Apocalypse after Christmas

By Johnny Apocalypse December 1st, 200


Twas the day after Christmas and I stood in a court,
My holiday rampage had been cut short.
The judge loomed over me, his eyes filled with dread,
Asking me why I shot Santa in the head.
"You don't understand," I said with great might,
"It wasn't Saint Nick I killed last night.
He was a crazy fat bastard with a flying sleigh,
He came every year to cause havoc and dismay."
The judge didn't care and told me to stuff it,
It looked like I was going to be some convict's butt puppet.
But the courtroom doors opened with a boom,
In walked a man in a red and white costume.
"It's true," he said, "It's not Santa who's dead,
I'm the real deal, that was a lunatic instead."
I jumped from my chair with a devilish yell,
"I remember you, asshole, and I'll send you to hell!
You knocked up my sister and you wrecked my car,
You smoked all my cigs and you broke my guitar!"
The judge told me to prove it in his court of law,
Instead I punched him straight in the jaw.
I jumped off the stand and ran straight for St Nick,
And caught him in the face with a flying high kick.
He countered with a left, he countered with a right,
The bailiff came by to break up the fight.
I kicked him in the nuts and stole his gun,
It seemed last night was going to be outdone.
I shot Santa six times right in the chest,
But this Claus was wearing a bulletproof vest.
I put one last round right through the face,
Then I turned around to address the place.
"Now two Santas are dead," I said with much sass,
"Merry Christmas to all, now kiss my white ass!"

 

Read Part One of this poem!


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