‘twas the night before Christmas and Santa was busy;
he was already behind schedule and was in a big hurry.
he would drop off the gifts and move to the next home;
it’s a tough job for sure but St. Nick works alone.
he fumbled with the map in his sleigh’s glove compartment
and lined up his sights on a big block of apartments.
no chimneys were there and so he had to touch down
in a dark, narrow alley with trash on the ground.
he checked his list: train sets, dolls, board games and ice skates
then he shouldered his bag and climbed up the fire escape.
he went window to window and dropped off the toys
but on the way back to his sled he heard a strange noise.
“GIMME YOUR MONEY OR YOU’RE GONNA DIE!”
said the masked man with an evil glint in his eye.
the man held in his hand a big rusty knife
and Kris Kringle suddenly feared for his life.
“take what you want! just spare me, sir, please!”
with tears in his eyes, Santa dropped to his knees.
the man raised his knife and cruelly said “hush!”
and knocked Father Christmas face down in brown slush.
when St. Nick woke up, he looked for his sleigh
but the knife-wielding man had already gotten away.
he wasn’t aware of how long he had dozed,
the only thing left was a dismembered red nose.