Twas' 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 them the creeps.



I'd cued up “Cuckoo'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 wandering eyes should approach

But the Los Angeles Lakers, and Pat Riley, their coach!

The limo was racing, the team at its heels

That's when I saw him:  the man at the wheel.

He ranted and cursed, and waved round his swizzel 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 mad man and called them by name:

“Now Magic, now Worthy, now Scott, and Kareem.

On Cooper, on Rambis, and the rest of the team.”



Down the chimney St. Nicholson came with a groan.  

Then he brushed off the suit and said, “Honey, I'm home.”



He was wearing a trench coat.  With beer it was stained.

And his shirt was clawed to shreds by Shirley Maclaine

He had a fat face and a flabby beer belly.  

From too many trips to the bar and the deli.

He said, “Its tough when an actor becomes fat and lazy.  I only get calls to play weirdo's and crazies.  And middle-aged has-been's with washed up careers.  But I'll fix them all and play Santa this year!”



And with that, he buried his head in the sack and said, “Lets 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?  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.  Spreadin all that Christmas cheer, with those stupid Christmas songs?  Did you ever stop and think of pickin up a little something for old Jack?  Did you ever stop to think of what Jack might like for Christmas?  You know, Jack.  From the movies. UP on the big screen.   Pourin his heart out, givin it everything he's got, day in and day out, just tryin as hard as he can to bring a tiny little bit of sunshine into your miserable little humdrum lives?  Did you ever think of good ole' Jack?  For a second?  NO!  Not once!  Maybe old Jack just wasn't that good.  Maybe I wasn't good enough in the Postman Always Rings Twice.  Acting my guts out for you in that one.  Cuckoo's Nest, the Shining, Witches of frickin Eastwick, Prizzi's frickin Honor.  All for you, Pal. Just to brighten things up for you.  Not good enough though, is it?  No, you want me to brighten up the Christmas season too?  Isn't that what you want, Pal?  Okay, lets 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.  What do you say we take this cute little angel and ram her on the top branch, huh?  How about some gasoline for the whole thing?  I mean, lets 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?  No point in having a tree as bright as all that without giving the neighbors a chance to see, don't you think?  There, aren't you glad ole' Jack stopped by?”



The flames towered brightly in the cold, wintry sky

As he made for his limo and bade his goodbye. 

And an age may unfold air 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 as he faded from sight,

“Merry Christmas to all, and I hope I never see you again for as long as I live, for crying out loud!”