Not a creature was stirring, except for a mouse;
The Mouse King he was, and he called to his brothers:
“Let’s take back this house from those bipedal mothers!
For far too long have they poisoned and shooed us,
The time is now to make those a-holes rue this!”
And so the mice swarmed, all skittering and scurrying,
But little did they know they should also be hurrying;
For this was the night the mighty Claus visited,
And the fat jolly elf was not one to take prisoners.
And yet still the humans slept, all warm in their beds,
While the mice scrambled, teeth bared, hunched over their heads,
And there the rodents sat poised, awaiting the signal;
With paw in the air, the King stifled a giggle.
“I almost feel bad for these women, these men,
The poor sons of bitches won’t know what hit them.”
But then, what to his wondering eyes did appear,
But an angry red elf and eight pissed-off reindeer.
“Call off your lackeys, you maleficent monarch,
Lest you want this Christmas night to get really dark.”
“Up yours, fat man,” the Mouse King did bark, gesturing rudely,
“We’ll take on you and your horses and we’ll do it crudely;
“We’ll tear the skin from your bones and make you watch,
Then we’ll gnaw on your organs like so much gazpach—”
“You don’t gnaw on soup, you dumb, stupid rodent!
Now, once more, leave! Before I get violent.”
The Mouse King grimaced, he furrowed his brow,
Then he signaled his brethren to begin an unholy row.
The mice fled from the humans and charged at the elf,
Running cross floors and up legs, as far as his belt;
But Santa, well, he’d had quite enough of this shit,
And with a thundering “ho ho ho” used his magic to end it.
As the King stared, his army of mice exploded as one,
Just guts and blood everywhere; his dreams were done.
“Don’t fuck with my holiday,” said the Claus with a laugh,
Watching as Vixen chomped the King’s head clean off.
And then, almost as if nothing had happened,
Santa went back to work, not giving one crapping,
About the fur and the bones littering the house;
He’d leave it to the reindeer to clean up the mouse.
The mighty Claus left his presents, filled the stockings,
He drank his milk and wolfed down the baked offerings;
And then, laying a finger aside of his bulbous nose,
He nodded grimly at Dasher, and up the chimney he rose;
Santa walked to his sleigh while his team went to town,
Devouring rooms full of mice entrails without gaining a pound.
And when they were done, they met on the roof,
The Claus and his reindeer, the fearsome Christmas troop.
And then Santa exclaimed, ere they drove out of sight:
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
Unless you’re a megalomaniacal rat king, of course;
In that case, prepare to get your rodent ass scorched.”
And with a rumbling laugh, they were off the roof and in flight,
The ever vigilant Santa Claus, protector of Christmas night.