A Black Friday Poem

‘twas the weekend after thanksgiving, and all through the malls
people lined up for hours to see ol’ Santa Claus.

Well, not really Santa, just some guy from the bar
who sat while he wondered, “will fifty bucks go far?”

And the kids kept coming, most unhappy I bet
Some crying and shrieking, some stinky and wet.

Santa, he just sat there, getting more than depressed
“Fifty bucks? It ain’t worth it, this job ain’t the best!”

And so he had enough of this unending horde
The parents and toddlers, and teenagers so bored

He jumped up to his feet and leapt far from the throne
And ran from the village, his fake Christmas home

Past Macy’s Past Penny’s, Past Glamour Shots and Sears
The crowd turned and followed, just like his worst fears

“Transformers and Barbies! And X-boxes with noise!
Plus Ipads and tablets! We’re good girls and boys!”

“We deserve all these presents, and we want them right now!
Get back here Mall Santa. Just don’t have a cow!”

And Mall Santa looked up, and called out to me,
“Really, Jim… Bart Simpson? Is it nineteen ninety?”

Sorry Mall Santa. It’s late and I’m stuck
I need a post now. That don’t totally suck.

Now get back to work, or I’ll put in some zombies
That will run you aground, and eat your cojones

“That doesn’t even rhyme,” I did hear him mutter
Along with some bad things, ‘bout my sainted mother

So I put in the zombies, then some werewolves and more
Turned children to demons, and pumped up the gore

And Mall Santa was toast, though when zombies hit belly
It’d make more sense to say, he looked like gross jelly.

Now I’ve done lost my way, with this black Friday round
I had wanted to say, something deep and profound
About what’s important to all, this time of year
So fill your hearts with joy, and some holiday cheer
And don’t talk back to the writer, ‘specially one so weird
Or you’ll end up like Mall Santa, a zombie caused smear