REDNECK PERSPECTIVE: Santa Now Lives in Hog Island

By on December 22, 2015

Jackson, WY – Twas the night before Christmas in my trailer house.

I was trying to unbutton a pretty girl’s blouse.

She was a Westbank girl, her name was Claire,

I had hopes that soon she would be totally bare!

The incensed candle was lit next to the bed

While visions of lust danced in my head.

“Time for a drink,” I said with a snap,

And poured some Bud Lite for our nightcap.

“You got to be kidding,” she said, her rage made her look hotter.

“I didn’t move to Wyoming just to drink water.”

I didn’t know what to say to one so refined,

I felt there was no way out of this bind.

Then out on the lawn there arose such a sound,

I knew my solution had just been found.

Her cool hip friends can’t do this trick;

I threw open the door and in walked Saint Nick!

He said, “Thought I’d stop for some cheer,

But I see you’re still drinking that crappy lite beer.”

My Westbank lover spoke up, said, “I do pray that you have something stronger stashed on your sleigh?”

His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry,

He said, “I have everything from Hennessey’s to sherry.

Come with me; leave this Hog Island disaster

When it comes to loving I am the master!

I’ll be traveling the world so here is a thought

While in Colorado we can get some good pot.”

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I wanted to punch him in spite of myself.

“I’m going with Santa,” Claire told me at last. Hog Island people are below my class.”

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work

Grabbed my rifle and turned with a smirk.

I walked out on the porch, next to the wall

Then blast away, blast away, blast away all.

I shot Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen
and Comet and Cupid and Dunder and Blixem;

I butchered Prancer and cranked up the grill.

Claire invited over her best friend named Jill.

We feasted on reindeer and drank Santa’s good booze.

The girls showed us all their tattoos.

Santa said, “It’s all for the best.

This Christmas Eve gig has me all stressed.

Kids no longer want toys handmade by elves,

They want video games they can play by themselves.”

So Santa moved in, a few trailers away

He went to Browse and Buy to drop off his sleigh.

His elves were thrown out in the street,

I sent them reindeer jerky for something to eat.

We’ve become even closer, Santa and I.

And some evenings we look in the sky

He remembers the times he flew around the globe

A fat man and reindeer changed to a space probe.

And he began to fit in to Hog Island life,

He bought a truck and got rid of his wife.

And I heard him exclaim one cold Christmas night,

“Fetch me a can of delicious Bud Lite.” PJH

About Clyde Thornhill

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