I wrote this last year...There have been requests for it by friends and coworkers alike...I'll share...
MALL SANTA
A bundle of brats, The line out the door, The selfish and greedy, Some rich and some poor.
The red velvet costume Sweat-soaked through at the pits, Kids with colds and the flu: Snot, vomit, the shits.
Creases and wrinkles, A face full of stubble; Groping the elves Would certainly land him in trouble.
A life, all alone, And a case of VD; That burning sensation Whenever he peed.
A lump on one testicle, A pre-cancerous mass; A handful of hemorrhoids, And other pains in the ass.
"Whaddya want?!" He asked the next child. "I want a PONY!" Her eyes eager and wild.
"Your parents would kill me," Was his only conclusion. Punting her off his lap, She suffered a contusion.
"Next!" the Mall Santa Practically screamed. Up came the next one, Smilingly, beamed:
"Gimme some Lego!" The child demanded. "RUDE CHILDREN GET NOTHING!" Mall Santa's tenor commanded.
The next child approached, So frail, so slight. "Hurry up, kid, I ain't got all night."
Her voice was so quiet, Mall Santa strained hard to hear. She was shaking and nervous, Tiny frame wracked with fear.
He thought: she's not normal, That thousand-yard stare... "What do you want, child?" ... "For him to stop touching me there."
"Who?" Mall Santa whispered, "Point him out if he's here." "The man in the blue coat," Her eyes starting to tear.
He looked up from his throne, Surveying the line, Found his target and said "This motherfucker is mine!"
"Wait here," he told her As he reached into his sack. Withdrawing a baseball bat, He prepared to attack.
"HEY ASSHOLE!" he shouted, "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID! YOU FUCKING DISGUST ME! SHE'S AN EIGHT YEAR OLD KID!"
The man in the blue coat Attempted to flee, But collapsed in a heap When the bat struck his knee.
Mall Santa's club came down Again and again, The girl looking upon him Like a god amongst men.
A couple of cracked ribs, A few shots to the head. Ragged burbling breathing: Borderline dead.
"You touch her again And I'll find you at home. Just me and my bat, And a huge motherfucker, Jerome."
"We won't kill you," he said, "Just shatter your jaw. For the rest of your life You'll eat through a straw."
"You'll beg us for death But, of course, we'll refuse. We'll break all your bones, Likely give you a bruise."
"This is all for that girl And this is important, you hear: Whenever she's close You better cower in fear."
"And now that you know You're on my shit-list I can assure you You don't want me pissed."
That's where Mall Santa left him, A heap on the floor; Blunt force trauma, or two... Maybe three...Maybe four.
He strode back toward The eight year old girl; The corners of her mouth Began to unfurl.
The extent of her smile Caused Mall Santa to balk While the line-up of patrons Stood, staring in shock.
His bat, dripping blood, Dropped to the floor. She hugged him and held him For a few minutes, or more.
"Can I ask one more thing?" As she motioned behind her. "What would you like, child?" "The bat, as a reminder."
Mall Santa nodded And went to retrieve it. This girl made up for All the snot, vomit and shit.
The police had arrived And were assessing the scene; Sticky blood on the floor, That eerie red sheen.
They approached the Mall Santa, Cinched tight the handcuffs, Facing assault charges For getting a little too rough.
He turned and he winked At the eight year old girl: "I hope you write letters To me while in jail."
She nodded her head And said, through a face full of tears, "I'll write a letter a week Even if it's ten years!"
By then she'll be eighteen, He thought with a smirk, Then quickly chastised himself As a crude fucking jerk.
The cops led him away, Through the front door: Going to jail, And barred from the store.