Christmas shopping is simultaneously the most enjoyable, and most horrific part of an ordinary persons year. We have a whole year to plan and yet, every year millions of people still end up rushing out on Christmas Eve to grab some presents they forgot about. Now that’s all well and good for us mortals, but what if Santa Claus himself left things too late? What if, by the time he got his act together, the elves had all gone home for the holidays and the shops were closed? This poem is about Father Christmas experiencing the same panic many of us have on Christmas Eve and the impact it has on the quality of our presents. Please forgive my picture of Santa. He’s hard to draw.
Last Minute Santa
Santa’s in the garage
Buying all the toys
A pink horse for the girlies
A blue dog for the boys
And into every stocking
Goes a Chupa Chup
A sandwich with no butter
And a can of 7up
Because everybody loves a man who breaks into their house, creeps into their children’s bedrooms to watch them sleep, then leaves gifts at the end of their bed. Sounds totally legit.
Ben's Bad Poetry 