Thursday, December 17, 2009


The lovely and talented MISS THYSTLE has finally regained consciousness and graced us with her guest blogging post. Please do not read it if you are easily offended, under a doctor's care for abuse of Ambien, My Current Employers, or related to me in a parental capacity. The reast of you--ENJOY!


Twas the night before Christmas
at Miss Thystle's house
and I sat drinking whiskey
with no pants and no blouse

I had just settled in, TiVo remote
on my lap
when out in the yard there arose such a clatter
I whipped open the door to see what
was the matter

The twelve blinking Baby Jesus'
cast such a twinkling glow
they gave the appearance of ground effects
to the riders so low

I had just racked my shot gun and stepped
behind a cactus
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
but a drunken old man, chugging a beer

His eyes were all blood shot
and his clothes were really smelly
and when he blew a snot rocket
it looked like mint jelly

He sat down on the curb and started
scratching his junk
My eyes started watering
thanks to his funk

"HEY MISTER!" I yelled
"What the heck are you doing?"
"Don't tell me you're pooing!"

He turned very slowly
so as not to get the spins
the tossed the bottle over his shoulder
and right into the bin

The light from my scope laser illuminated
his stout little form
I thought for a moment "Is that Phil
or maybe it's Norm!"

But no! It was Santa!
Drunk in my yard
Swilling Mad Dog from a 40
and scratching his nards

of course it was Santa!
It was Christmas even night
but what was he doing in the Ghetto
Barely upright?

Santa! I shouted
It's me! Miss Thystle!
Did you bring me some new boobs?
Or maybe a pistol?

But Santa just shrugged
and layed down in the grass
and stayed there slightly snoring
because he was drunk off his ass

Hey Santa! I shook him
You've got to get up!
All the kids need their presents
you drunken old scut!

Miss Thystle, he slurred
I'm too drunk to drive
Could you fire up the Juice
and give me a ride?

Away to the living room I flew like a light
wrapped myself in an afghan
grabbed the keys
and a rum mixed with Sprite

I loaded him up
and strapped him up tight
fired up the Bronco
and drove into the night

He started tossing out presents
one here, two over there
while singing along to Lady Gaga
and sipping his beer

When all the gifts were delivered
Santa turned with a smile
then he threw up in
my lap, used my coat for a pillow
and curled up for a nap

I awoke the next morning
to sunlight so bright
I was sure I'd imagined
my wild Christmas night

But there on the counter
lined up like reindeer
where eight bottles of
Jamison and a full case of beer

I looked for a card and taped to the side
was a picture of Santa's ass and the words
Thanks for the ride!

So I leave you with this my sweet little kittens
I hope your Christmas stocking is stuffed
with a ball gag and mittens, a blind fold, a whip
Durecell batteries sized D
and furry handcuffs with heart shaped keys


Lin said...

LOL, that was hilarious!

Job well done, Miss Thystle :)

Jen said...

Bravo Miss Thystle! That was well done!

Nadine Hightower said...

Encore!! She's the best!

Sheila said...

Hysterical, yet slightly disturbing. I'm not spending Christmas with Thystle...

OHN said...

I didn't know she was going to write a true story about herself :)

ZDub said...

That's funny that you thought Kreg was Santa.

Susan said...

Funny and very entertaining ...

bathmate said...

Realy Good !

Best work !

Nice post !

Thanks !

Bj in Dallas said...

I don't know what to say......
and that is rare

wv: pango

Away in a pango no room for a bed

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