Just a small thing I wrote with only one idea in mind. "How does Santa really do it?" It also explains why suicides are most prominent during the holidays. Or at least to me and my sick twisted mind it does. What do you think?

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‘Twas the Christmas Were
by Anthony Anonymous Writer

‘Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the mall
Every creature was scurrying, trying not to fall;
My kid sister danced with laughter and great cheer,
In hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be here;

Meanwhile I was now bored right out of the head.
For I wished to be doing most anything instead.
When we first got here, the line not that long,
But how many times could we hear that Christmas song.

The children were waiting all smug with their glee,
While I constantly asked myself, “Dear God, Why me?”
My mamma made me do it, and so I in my grief,
Had to settle now to it and get no relief.

When out on the stage there arose such a clatter.
The line sprang to life, to climb up that small ladder.
Away to the fat man we flew. Yes, moved in a flash,
Tore through the curving line and to the final slash.

My sweet relief quickly coming at hand.
The wait getting shorter, a minute to second,
Then after hours of waiting, as if was a jest.
Break time again, I, however, had to persist.

To wait any longer, No not today I fear.
I pleaded with his Helpers, “we were finally here.”
My sister also begged, my how her eyes glisten,
I offered extra cash. Still they wouldn’t listen.

To top of the stage, they forced me to draw,
Madder and madder, then the last straw.
I lowered my trousers, and mooning them all.
Never get off the naughty list. No, not at all.

Santa was furious, he just couldn’t sit still,
He marched right to me saying, “Stop or I will-”
Now please sit down, those that are faint of heart;
For I hate to admit what occurred in the next part.

He yelled once more, but this one in shock.
Mr. Claus had lost balance, I had no time to block.
A candy cane tripped, launching him in the air.
Thus Santa Claus was bitting hard on my derriere.

Oh how I screamed loud. This reason I bleeded;
Most kids laughed, many stitches I needed.
The pain unbearable, but what hurt the most;
Now I’m six months grounded with nothing to boast.

To bed that night, I went without dessert;
Now the bandaged wound really start to hurt.
No, I couldn’t sleep, turning in my bed;
Funny thing is, sugar plums danced in my head

The next morning I rose. Boy, did I feel odd;
Strong cravings I had, for cookies and eggnog.
Ran down the stairs, needed something to eat.
Saw a plate of cookies. Well, maybe just a treat.

I munched and I crunched, no not enough.
I poured me some milk and devoured the stuff.
My family thought it weird. Still cold milk I drank.
With the plate clean, had my small heart sank.

My belly was full, but still it grumbled;
Needing some more, so onward I fumbled;
To the cupboard I went, ripped open the packs;
Eating more, yes, even more fatty snacks.

For me to devour like this was no easy feat.
Then as if possessed, I moved on to the meat.
I continued this on, until I felt like I’d burst.
Pop even questioned, should he call for a hurst?

Then soon I was done, leaving no room to debate;
Yes, no shadow of doubt, on how I’ve gained weight.
How much you ask? Well, just look at this belly.
If I laughed now, you’d think it’s a bowl full of jelly.

Concerned for my health, I was sent back to the doc.
What he would tell us all next really came as a shock.
Lycanthropy it was, but not of the normal kind.
It had different symptoms as we would soon find.

First of the dangers, well there’s nothing to fear.
For these reactions occur only once every year.
First comes the cravings, next comes the desire.
Until completely engulfed within this burning fire.

They’ll be small things at first, but son you will change.
It is inevitable on how your mind shall rearrange.
No matter what you do, you can no longer deceive.
These changes will peek, come Christmas Eve.

You’ll be attracted to children. No, not in a bad way.
You will watch them all, every moment of the day.
Whether they’re naughty or nice, you shall judge;
You may not remember, your memory will smudge.

Your eyes -- how they’ll twinkle! With dimples how merry!
Your cheeks will be like roses, nose like a cherry!
Then your little mouth will be drawn up like a bow,
And grow a beard on the chin as white as new snow;

You’ll have a great joy, then look to the northern star,
No need to worry, You wont have to travel far.
Your body will then make the final transformation.
Your skills will advance, all your senses heighten.

It’s not that hard to predict, where your focus shifts;
You’ll visit children’s homes, leaving them all gifts.
Yes because of that bite. The bite is the cause;
Starting this Christmas, you will become a Santa Claus.

No, he’s not real, in the traditional sense;
He certainly did once, as in the past tense.
You will have to work hard, over the longer of the year.
So you’ll have the fiancees to spread Christmas cheer.

I couldn’t believe it. Not from what he just said.
Perhaps I was frighted, wanting off that cold bed.
We all thought it a joke, surely this doctor was daft.
“That is funny!” we thought, that is until I laughed…

“Ho ho ho,” I spouted and I just could not stop.
“Help! Ho ho ho,” I laughed hard and deep nonstop.
I’m sorry son, Doc said, there’s thing we can do.
For the infection is already deep inside of you.

So now it’s been a year, since that faithful day.
Still I did wonder if I should get me a sleigh;
With eight tiny reindeer, named after something just right.
Then I wont repeat last year, Running around all night.

I now run on cookies, and the kindness of others;
It’s a time to go now, to stop me no one bothers.
At least one good thing came out from all of this.
We can always getting a picture of Santa with my little sis.