Tag: Dave’s Gone By

A deeply warped and perverted take on “The Night Before Christmas,” for your holiday pleasure.

Segment originally aired Dec. 30, 2004, as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

Please Note: Segments extracted from “Dave’s Gone By” may have music and other elements removed for timing and media re-posting considerations. For the full show with all elements, please visit the audio of the complete original broadcast: Full Episode

All content (c)2004 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com

SANTASIA

by David Lefkowitz

`Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the malls
Santa was bouncing young boys on his balls.
The children would snuggle all deep in his lap
Which is why Santa’s suit had a secret front flap.

His stocking was hung like a pornstar in heat
As fidgety children would straddle his meat
The mommies would wander and endlessly shop
While Santa found nine-year-old cherries to pop.

On Trojan, on Durex, on Hot Rod and Crown
His tree would light up when the children went down.
With tears in his eyes and beer on his breath,
Old Santa would quiver with each little death.

And when he was through, he’d give each child a buck
“Ho, ho, ho!” he would say. “And thanks for the fuck!”
After every tenth child, he drank juice and rested
And gave candy canes to the tykes he molested.

Only twice all day did he excuse himself
To visit the men’s room and bugger an elf.
And when he was finished, he again took his place
With a boy on his lap and a girl on his face.

Then, outside the store, there arose such a ruckus
That Santa stopped fondling an eight-year-old’s tuchas.
He said, “What the hell?” and jumped flat to the floor
As a dozen policemen burst through the door.

“You, in the fat suit! You’ve got quite a nerve.”
“Yes, twelve inches long,” said the jolly old perv.
“That’s not what I meant,” said Captain O’Flynn.
“Now put your hands up and your pecker back in!”

“But what did I do?” Santa said with a shrug.
“I just gave them affection . . . and sex and a drug.”
“We know who you are, and it’s not Santa Claus.
You’re just an old weirdo who breaks Megan’s Laws.”

“But these children love me! They’re all my new friends.
So what if there’s blood coming out their rear ends?
I treat them as equals regardless of class.
`Cause Santa loves fairness, and an ass is an ass.
Each child gets a chance to hold Santa’s hand,
To stroke Santa’s beard, and yank Santa’s gland.
From the brawniest jock to the scrawniest worm,
All children are blessed when covered with sperm.”

A whole minute passed `fore the Captain could speak.
With a lump in his throat and tears down his cheek.
“Forgive me,” he said, “I was quick to accuse.
I saw all these youngsters with stained underoos.
I just didn’t realize you had such a heart;
They’re lucky to have you at this mega-mart.
Don’t let us disturb you; we’ll be on our way.
Merry Christmas, dear Santa, and have a nice day.”

And quick as a wink, the cops left the store,
And Santa went back to his under-age whores.
He looked at his penis, all hairy and bent
and said, “Thank God five is the age of consent.”

He saw one child laughing and said, “Think that’s funny?
I’m gentle compared to my pal, Easter Bunny.”
Now, line up in order, and don’t you get fresh.
I’m harder than granite and crave sweet young flesh.

He gave the kids candy; he gave the moms cash.
He gave the whole town a venereal rash.
And when the last child had been raped and defiled
Santa Claus looked at his winkie and smiled.

He stood up and leered and did a cute dance
And tasted the smears that were left on his pants.
The children said, “Santa, where is your sleigh?”
“Out there,” he said, pointing to a black Chevrolet.

“Do you have any reindeer? Do you have any toys?”
“Just the ones I used on you, girls and boys.”

Said one little girl still rubbing her rear,
“Please tell us, dear Santa, you’ll be back next year.”
Santa paused for a moment, then leaned down and kissed her.
“Of course I will,” he whispered, “if you bring your sister.
Now carry my suitcase. I warn you, it’s heavy.”
And quick as a wink, they were off to his Chevy.

The engine did rev, and the tires did screech.
The upholstery smelled of whiskey and bleach
and beer and tobacco and dog diarrhea
as off Santa went to the next galleria.

But they heard him exclaim as he drove off the lot,
“Merry Christmas to all! Goddamn, that was hot.”

©2004 David Lefkowitz