'Twas the stat correction night before Christmas, and all through the IC,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Bear.
The balls were hung by the dicks with care,
In hopes that St. Nick Butz soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their Adam Williams rape proofed beds,
While visions of fantasy football championships danced in their heads .
And Faust in his 'kerchief, and Brown in his Aussie cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from Portillo’s filthy and unlaundered bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
fucking karate kicked open the shutters, and donkey punched up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of a Morton’s Steakhouse to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But Weiss and Miller vaping liquid fear.
With a little old Mazur, so lively and crunk,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More slowly than Chambers they came,
And he whistled, and called them by name;
“Now, Stack ! Now, Gillman! Now, Glasscock and Westfall!
On, TK! On MIlliron! On, Farris and Vacek!
To the tip of the prick! To a glass of Clint’s coco Milk!
Now stash away! stash away! stash away Lubahn’s synthetic weed!"
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little goof.
As I drew in my hand, and was getting turned on,
Down the throat came St. Nicholas with a bound.
His eyes -- how they glassed over! His nipples, how veiny!
His tits were like eggs, his cock like spaghetti!
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all his friends, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his empty sack and giving a nod, up the the rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a chest bump,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, You all suck and my shit is tight."
MERRY CHRISTMAS
A Butz + Faust Joint
