I was donning my jacket to cover my ass,When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,He looked like a bum...and he smelled like a whore.“That was some brothel” he said with a smile”The reindeer are pooped, and I’ll just stay here awhile.He walked to the kitchen; himself poured a drink,Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.Back in the den, Santa. Since the clubs were open on Sunday, Mike and I went back to the scene of my crime. I knew I had no backup and that it was risky but I had to show people that I did not fear the Atwoods, even though I did. Not to fear those two wasn’t just stupid, it could well be terminally stupid. I sat so that I could keep my eye on the door and Mike sat so that he could film everything. He was using an only slightly disguised camera. It was a high definition camera in a case to make it look like a common. More

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