Tuesday, December 18, 2007

A Holiday Poem, 2007: Mrs. Santor

dedicated, with all my love, to The Admiral

It’s that time of year for a League Christmas Rhyme
So if the kids are in the room, its beddy-bye time.
So Mom don’t read this, you’ve been forewarned
“Cause the smut herein is made from the worst sort of porn
I have tried to warn you, but I know you’ll read to the end
But, for chrissake, please don’t share with your friends.

On to the poem…

His sleigh had traveled far, and it had traveled quite wide
And while he’d delivered his gifts, our dear Santor sighed
“I think Santor could do better than just to pleasure himself.
And while Rick’s a good pal, and so is Chad my good elf,
It’s time Santor quit depending on cheap magazines
Let’s find a Ms. Santor to keep my pipes clean.”

"Each year I give gifts, and don't expect thanks in return
But I admit there's a pang in my loins and it burns.
I know I put up the front of a merry old cynic
But the burn ain't the kind which they fix at the clinic.
I need a companion who can tolerate this lot,
And who is ready to take all the lovin' I got."

So Elf Chad and Rick leapt to work in their inquisition
To find a lady who would fit Santor’s particular predilection.
“She must be just right,” Chad said, “And ample of bosom
And, she’ll need to be comfortable with all of our boozin’.
She’ll have to be patient to meet Santor’s wishes,
And it would help if she were quite sick of Christmas.”

“We’ll have to look hard,” Rick said. “There’s no Ms. Santor store.”
“Oh, but there is,” cried Elf Chad, “We can get him a whore!”
“I’m not so sure,” Rick disagreed as he checked their cash flow.
“Where there’s cash,” argued Chad, “We can sure find a ho.
Maybe not the best, these ladies of quite easy virtue
For the fifteen bucks we’ve got, we can afford two.”

They drove past the tracks on their hookery mission
And on down to Ho Town to find a Santory vision.
Alone on a corner stood a single lone hooker,
Who was showing her wares, though not much of a looker.
“What are you boys up to tonight in this Holiday Season?
Do you need a date for your Holiday pleasin’?”

The transaction was quick, and Rick found it strange
That when the money was shared, that they got back change.
“You look sort of rough,” said Rick to their guest.
“I’ve got the withdrawals,” their new friend confessed.
“You’d think on Christmas I’d find charity,
“But, according to Guido, that shit is not free.”

They arrived at the house and Chad said as they lingered:
“You steal anything, bitch, and I’ll break your fingers.”
“Now go into Santor, and make sure you’re cool
“Or they’ll pick up your parts with a gardening tool.”
But when Santor’s eyes saw her, he gave out with a sigh.
His beard gave a shiver and a light sparked in his eye.

Before Santor stood a figure in red velvet and white fur.
She was broad of shoulder, and her voice low of timbre.
Her hair was a mass beneath a white puff-ball tipped hat
And it would be ungenerous to describe her as fat.
She smelled kind of icky, like a hobo's rank stink.
But so Santor was smelly from the sweat and the drink.

“My friends, I confess I like your great attitude,
But what you’ve brought Santor here is clearly a dude.
Lo, it’s many a year since I’ve spent time with a floozy
And maybe in my old age I’m simply less choosy.
But rather than throw this Ms. Santor out on her fanny,
Santor is glad to say he likes the looks of this tranny.”

“You’re not what I planned for my Christmas list
But there’s simply no reason that I can’t work with this.
Santor knows love comes in all shapes and all sizes,
But among this old crew, you won’t find no prizes.
I can’t say if you’re truly hot, or if it’s the booze.
But you only go ‘round once, and I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Spoke the she-male, “I admit I’m enamored. You’re quite a man.
And I plan to be the very best Ms. Santor I can.
I’d had it with Christmas and those johns who tip low.
I’d had it with my job, which was full of bad blows.
The smack habit is grueling, 'tho my freakouts are grand,
But I think I’ll work out well in your Christmassy band.”

This Christmas as you open each gift 'neath the tree
and you find the gift from ol' Santor and he/she,
know that behind every recycled gift you receive
Is a pair made for lovin', like you wouldn't believe.
Whether a Big Billy Bass, or a singing tree toy
Know that the Santors are just sharing their Christmassy joy.

And so love was found during this year’s Yuletide
With a Santor who’d found him a Santory bride
Their first smooch was such, it could thaw any freeze
While Santor ignored how the tranny shook from DT’s.
So Merry Christmas to all, that’s my Holiday plea.
And this poem ensures Dad will be disappointed in me.

For more Holiday magic... and The Admiral's personal shame...

The original Santor poem

Chad the Elf

Rick the Reindeer


mcsteans said...

My hat's off to you. You have outdone yourself this year.

You know, I'm thinking a book of Santor poems might not be a bad idea....

J.S. said...

Really? Really?

The League said...

You no like the nice poem I make for you?

Unknown said...

wow. i...just...wow. glad he's at your place, not ours!!

J.S. said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
J.S. said...

The really good thing about this poem is that it's really long, so you keep thinking that it can't get any worse. But it does.

The League said...

I just like to know that I've shared a little something magical with all my Leaguers this Holiday Season.

Merry Christmas, Leaguers!

J.S. said...

Another good thing about this poem is that it's dedicated to my dad.

The League said...

Dad loves a good poem! Merry Christmas, Pop!

Anonymous said...

I hate Santor poems.

The League said...

Oh, Santor. You loveable @$$hole.

Anonymous said...



The League said...

In the spirit of Christmas, sir. In the spirit of Christmas.

Anonymous said...

Excellent poem, Ryan. Quite funny.

Merry Christmas to you and your family.

jep said...

I finally made it to check out the new poem and am so glad I did. Hilarious, Ryan! I hope the Steans family is having a great Christmas. :) jep