Late Christmas Eve, as the boy lay in bed,
with visions of Santa alive in his head,
he heard rustling and bumping from the living room floor,
so he crawled out of bed and he slipped through the door.
But it wasn’t Kris Kringle he found—much more shocking!
It was Mom on her knees and Dad stuffing her stocking!
“What’s this?!” hollered Dad. “You should be in bed!Why are you up? You’ve been washed, you’ve been fed!
We read you a story, we tucked you in tight!
You should be asleep, dreaming dreams, out of sight!”
The boy tried to think, tried to make a reply,
but before he could speak, something else caught his eye.
Under the tree there were gift boxes stacked.
Were there ten? Were there twenty? The tree skirt was packed!
And on each one a tag that read “From Mom and Dad”
It was the very best Christmas the boy’d ever had!
Then the boy had a thought, and he felt his joy fade.
“There’s no space for Old St. Nick’s gifts to be laid!”
Mom and Dad shared a glance, then Mom turned to the child,
and got up off her knees and looked at him and smiled.
“You’re a little man now,” she said to her son,
“You know not to lie, that the truth is more fun.
Well, here’s a fun fact that I’m glad to reveal:
Santa’s not coming! He’s not even real!”
“Santa not real!” the boy sobbed and bawled,“After all of these years? Why I’m—frankly—appalled!
It was you two that got me that ball glove last year,
not the jolly old elf with the eight magic reindeer?
And the toy plastic shark with the real working jaws—
You brought me that and not Santa Claus?
Still, there’s one Christmas icon I yet can applaud.
Thank heaven for Jesus! At least he’s not a fraud!”
Dad tried to hold back—he bit on his knuckle—
but he just couldn’t help it. He started to chuckle.
“Actually, son,” he started to say,
“You might just as well know the whole truth today.
I know it’s a lot for a boy to work through,
but Santa’s a phony, and Jesus is, too.”
“Oh, no!” the boy cried, “what is this place—Hell?
Santa a fake, and Jesus as well?!”
Then Daddy gave Mommy a tap on the ass,
and she told the boy, “Think of the kids in your class!
They’re all still deluded, the thick little fools!
You’re way far ahead of your friends, those dim tools!”
“Now then,” said Dad, “What’s that under the tree?
The big box with the red bow. Why, what could it be?”
The boy tore at the present, breathless to see,
and exclaimed as he opened it, “Awesome! A Wii!”
“Go on, hook it up, Son,” said Dad with a smile.
“Turn the volume way up and play here for a while.”
Mom dragged Dad back to bed by the waist of his shorts,
while the boy plugged in his Wii and played Mario Sports.
And so Christmas that year brought the whole family luck—
the boy got his Wii, the folks got to fuck.
And Mom cried out loud as Dad sprayed his jizz,
“Santa’s not coming! But your father sure is!”