T’was the fright before Christmas. No one upset me
With a big bowl of popcorn, watching TV
I stretched, gave a yawn, settled back in my chair,
In hopes that St. Nicholson soon would be there.
The children were lying awake without sleep
They’d seen all his movies. He gives ‘em the creeps.
I’d cued up Cukoo’s Nest with my trusty remote,
To the part where he had all the nuts in the boat.
When out in the yard there arose such a noise,
I turned off the TV to see what it was.
And what to my wondering eyes should approach?
But the Los Angeles Lakers and Pat Riley, their coach.
The limo was racing; the team at it’s heels.
That’s when I saw him the man at the wheel.
He ranted and cursed. Waved round his swizzle stick.
And I knew in a second it must be Jack Nick.
More rapid than the Celtics, these Lakers they came.
He screamed like a madman and called them by name:
“Now Magic, now Worthy, now Scott and Kareem
On Cooper, on Rambus, and the rest of the team.”
Down the chimney St. Nicholson came with a groan.
Then he brushed off the soot and said, “Honey I’m home!”
He was wearing a trench coat. With beer it was stained.
And shirt clawed to shreds by Shirley McLaine
He had a fat face, and flabby beer belly
From too many trips to the bar and the deli.
“It’s tough when an actor becomes fat and lazy.
I only get calls to play weirdoes and crazies…
And middle-aged has beens with washed up careers.
But I’ll fix ‘em all and play Santa this year.”
And with that he buried his head in the sack
And said, “Let’s see what you get from your old buddy Jack.
“A hatchet for Daddy,” he reared back his head,
“To scare all those little buggers upstairs in bed.
“And a stiff drink for Mommy, in a nice tall glass.
She could really use something to kill that bug up her chimney!”
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his face,
He threw all the stockings into the fireplace.
What could I do? What could I say?
What would I wear on my feet Christmas Day?
I asked for a reason, and turning his head,
He looked straight at me, and here’s what he said:
“Why? Do you wanna’ know why? Do you really wanna’ know why, Pal?
“I’ll tell you why. When you’re out Christmas shopping. You know, doing your little Christmas things with all your little Christmas friends, spreading all that Christmas cheer with those stupid Christmas songs. Did you ever stop and think of picking up a little something for old Jack, huh? Did you ever stop to think of what Jack might like for Christmas?
“You know, Jack, from the movies, up on the big screen? Pouring his heart out, giving it everything he’s got, day in and day out, just trying as hard as he can to bring a tiny little bit of sunshine into your miserable, little hum-drum lives. Did you ever think of good old Jack, huh, for a second? No, not once! Maybe old Jack just wasn’t that good, huh? Maybe I wasn’t good enough in The Postman Always Rings Twice. Acted my guts out for you in that one! Cuckoo’s Nest, The Shining, Witches of freaking Eastwick, Prizzi’s freaking Honor! All for you pal, just to brighten things up for ya!
“Not good enough though is it? No, you want me to brighten up the Christmas season too, huh? Isn’t that what you want, Pal?
“Okay, let’s make things real bright around here! What do you say we decorate the tree? String up these pretty lights here! Oh, she’s looking brighter already! Why don’t we take this cute little angel and ram her on the top branch huh? Ha ha ha! How about some gasoline for the whole freaking thing? I mean let’s make her just as bright as she can be! What do you say we light her up, and chuck her through the old picture window here, huh, pal? No sense in having a tree as bright as all that and not giving the neighbors a chance to see, don’t ya think, huh?
“There, aren’t you glad old Jack stopped by? Huh, huh, huh? Ha!”
The flames towered brightly in the cold wintery sky,
As he made for his limo and bade his goodbye.
And an age may unfold ere I fail to regret
That visit from St. Nicholson. Which I’d sooner forget.
But I swear by the goose bumps upon my skin
That I’ll always remember that devilish grin.
And his voice crying out ere he faded from sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and I hope I never see you again as long as I live, for crying out loud!”