The Christmas Conspiracies

THE CHRISTMAS CONSPIRACies

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Rhythmic + rhyming tales
Of horror + humor
for the holidays

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humor that’s horrifically 
…intelligent 

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© Frank (f. scott) weitz

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Rated ‘r’ – adult supervision
Required 

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Read these rhymes aloud 
in a big, old crowd 
of people that you (used to)
like.

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 They’ll think you’re crazy. 
They’ll laugh like mad.
they’ll be so Glad…
…when you drop the mic.

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let’s have some wicked fun. I have begun with evil santa.

I wish to thrill americans - from san Francisco to atlanta.  

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In new England, they’ll be horrified to see one of their own 

freak out people in los angeles. I’m wicked wicked - to the bone.

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Now that I’m living in new Mexico, these folks may, too, call me their own…

since those darned Texans drove me from my long-time dallas home.  

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I’ll scare the crap out of those fools; drive them ALL to drink in droves.

I would have each visit me. for supper, I’ve got a couple man-sized stoves.  

 

But, I’ll gladly welcome every wanderer. I’ve t*h*c now in the tea. 

I’m living high up in the mountains. Come out and get real high with me.

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And, if you find the air too thin, I’ll fill your last few days with laughter.

I dare you to come out. You’ll surely find the kicks you’re after.

  

For now, read all the lovely rhymes – each one a thrill, friend, just for you.

Let’s kick it off with a santa claus who’d love to have you, dear, for stew.

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F. Scott Weitz

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[SEASON’S GREETINGS TO Those as old as me.THIS may be your very last.
I’LL make you laugh SO …YOUR TICKER WILL BLOW – MAKE YOU THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST.]

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‘The fat man’

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Santa oozed down the chimney as slick as a slug –

armed with the bricks that had been mortared into a plug.

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Could one keep santa out? Out, one could keep santa, not.
Santa’s one master destroyer; and he’s hip to your plot.

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Many have tried through the years to foil his arrival. 
Getting in is a trick he knows well. His survival

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Depends upon knowledge, depends upon skill. 

Santa knows what you’re thinking – always has, always will.

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His appetites are prolific. That’s why the man’s fat.
He feeds on far more than cookies. ‘well rounded’ – he rolls like that.

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Yes, you may think that it’s funny. Fat jokes are all the rage 
‘Til you’re next on the menu – the dessert ...on the page.

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Santa’s put in his order. It’s a tasty flambe.

He peels the crust from your eyelids as the flames lick away

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At your delicate innards – a delicacy he’ll enjoy.

Young girls are as sweet as candy – but tonight ‘it’s a boy’.

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He’s cooked up an idea. His imagination is great. 

He’s given birth to a notion – your eyeballs on a plate.

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Served up with intestines tied in a bow, 
sautéed alveoli – all in a row.

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You think it’s a dream. A dream, it is not.  
You’re the guest at the Christmas feast; and you’re looking quite… hot.

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How are you conscious?

How can this be?
Santa does sh#t that boggles the mind. Can’t you see?

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Why, yes you can – though your eyes aren’t attached to your head. 
That brick to the skull!  Man, you should be quite dead.

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Sugar plums dance about you. That’s a vision from me -
the author who served you up as a dish just for he

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Who hath granted so many that I made his wish come true. 
Santa sent me a letter, requested that I prepare ….you

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For the thrill of a lifetime – the last you will get.
Oh, you should be so honored; but you aren’t quite ‘done’ yet.

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There’s a cake I will bake with your brain and your lips.
Be happy. You’ll make an impression on santa.  ……You’ll go right to his hips!

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[it’s easter time. So, parents, do what, of you, is expected.
Don’t think beyond the pretty ads, Or You’ll be, by your kids, rejected.]

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‘collusion at the candy store’

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The easter bunny isn’t funny, sonny. He’s a thief – and that is all.
He’ll run you ‘round in circles, rot your teeth – and have a ball

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As your parents spend their money. He’s so sunny… to their faces.
He’ll hide eggs filled with empty dreams. His peeps fill empty spaces

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Within your teeth and on your waist – give you a taste of something nice.
He’s selling lies dressed as good times. With your health, he’ll roll the dice.

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For colored eggs, your children beg. You better not be mean.
The kids are bouncing off the walls. But, don’t, mom, make a scene.

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Everybody else’s mom is so good to all the kids. 
How could you, dear, complain? – explain: ‘all our neighbors flipped their lids’ –

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Revealing hearts filled to the brim …with sticky, sugared treats.
The bunny weighs a ton. He’s getting fat off all the suckers… that he cheats.

 

The dentist and the doctor will blame you for junior’s paunch;
And, then, invest in candy stores and advertisement firms which launch 

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Media campaigns to sell what’s swell and tastes so very yummy. 
Your 12-year-old is far too large. You should pay to tuck that tummy

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Because if sally’s self worth, dad, cannot be cured with pills,
You’ll be plagued by accusations and/ or big, old doctors’ bills. 

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The easter bunny’s very clever. Don’t be fooled by that sweet smile.
Beneath the big front teeth, he is scheming all the while.

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The tv shows, as wise men know, will teach your kids to hate
Moms and dads who would be glad to give kids nasty plates 

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Of food that’s merely good for them. These parents are quite bad – 
portrayed by starched and stiff actors who, when the kids are sad, are glad.

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So, brighten up their day now… daddy. take them to a picture show –
So we can tell them what to think, and let the children know

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That butter on the popcorn is much better when it’s thick 
And goes so well with something swell – some tasty thing to lick.

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The easter bunny is a hero. His enemies are cold and old –
And huge cold sodas are in the lobby where mom and dad’s reps are bought ….and sold.

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[CONSPIRACIES ARE IN THE AIR – PERVASIVE AS the cold.
THINK FOR YOURSELF UP THERE ON YOUR SHELF.  THEN, MIGHT YOU BE CALLED ‘BOLD’.]

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‘CONSPIRACY, MY ……’

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A QUIVERING MASS OF PURE WHITE #sS STUCK UP FROM OUT THE SNOW. 
With reindeer pieces strewn about, our faces were aglow.

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We’d finally brought the sucker down. Laugh that off.  Ho! Ho! Ho!

A liberal spy – that big fat guy.  They thought we didn’t know.

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But, on the real news, ‘fox’ it was, they told we few the truth. 

The commies in the senate allow this infil-traitor to pervert the nation’s youth

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With visions of fruity sugar plums – laughing, enjoying themselves - some real twisted stuff.

‘TWas our responsibility to say, to all those so gay, that enough is quite enough.

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So, righteously, we shot him down. Pictures show, on snow, atop the grass:
the cover-up’s already begun, son. YES, They covered santa’s #ss

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…With a big white sheet that looks like snow. Looks like a snow job, man, to me.
And, anyone with eyes, who also has the guts to see,

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Knows we may be in prison now, but your children we did save. 
And, that pinko pervert no longer flies o’er the home of we …who are not free …so much as brave.

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[Halloween is horrible. I  tell you - it does suck.
Beggars in disguises ….issue threats + run
amok.]

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‘treating with tricksters’

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Halloween – what a nightmare!  - the candy
piled high.
I stepped outside + stepped into a teenagers’ drive-by.

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THAT NIGHT, Three cavities resulted, and I couldn’t see a thing -
for boiled hard, the egg, was. Some little …DARLING, he, did fling

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the one that flew right at me. YES, It hit me in the eye.
He screamed he’d Play the nutcracker. Thank god the throw was high.

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My trees were toilet papered. My house was covered too. 
The eggs ran down the window panes. I was covered up in goo.

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Please send the ghosts to visit me – and keep the darned kids home.
Let spirits walk the streets at night – or animate the gnome.

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He’s a tiny little fellow. I’ll bet he won’t eat too much, 
OR spread the flu bug all around with his nasty little touch.

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Yes, children are the scary things that occupy our planet.
A float in the parade? I would prefer that demons man it

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Rather than those twisted little screamers who cry for more and more.
Oh, no; they’re peeking through my windows, and pounding on my door.

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They’re threatening to play a trick that I’ll not soon forget.
If I go out and chase them off, they’ll just come back again – I bet.

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Who came up with this scheme for scamming?  Who, perpetrate this folly, did? 
Well, I don’t know; but I believe it’s so. - It must have been a kid!

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I’ll take Christmas any day. Anyway, give back halloween.
A snowball hurts less than an egg …..and it’s relatively clean.

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[LISTEN NOW TO MY STORY. You’ll be dazzled ...and dented.
It’s the tale of an elf – obsessed and demented.]

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‘Bad (Mrs.) santa’

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Santa came down the chimney. He was all in a rage.
His assistant had written; sent him… a page.

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Mrs. Claus was at it again – off with some elf.       

Tired of being left at home, she’d sought some care of the self.

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Santa, she’D HEARD, was up to no good.
Out delivering joy?  ‘deliver joy’ she sure could.

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A little magical ‘powder’ and the elf would look grand.
She found him unwinding in the spa – a big ‘toy’ in his hand.

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He almost freaked when she showed in that mistletoe thong – Almost exploded when, like a college girl down on a bong,

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She looked up through the bubbles – high as a kite.
he might have flown away then .....but her grip was so tight.

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It wasn’t his fault. Pa claus would rip him a new one,
or work the one that he had till the old granddad blew one

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- leave him writhing and wriggling, incontinent, sore.
He peered down through the bubbles, and mouthed the word…… ‘more’.

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Santa’s assistant had shown ma that santa was bad -

‘exposed’ all those single moms who santa had made so glad.

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He doctored the pictures, then doctored her drink.

Just what the doctor ordered. He made the bitch think

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That santa was coming in more ways than one. 

He’d watched too many shows on the lifetime channel – just for fun.

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All those strange ideas drove the elf over the edge.

wanted santa for himself – so his bets he would hedge.

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He couldn’t wait to get paws on the claus that he wanted.
So, he dreamed and he schemed - for the jiggly one haunted.

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He’d make that man his own, bone the rest for the chance:

draw a target on tubby, get the big broad to dance…

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To the tune which would lead her straight into the bubbles;
take the elf OFF THE SHELF – drown all hER domesticated troubles.

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SHE’D GO DOWN FOR CERTAIN.  SOON (in a good way) HE’D GO DOWN to boot.

He so wanted the big man in his big birthday suit

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That he’d do what he must - though disgust he sure would.
Mrs. claus and the poor elf would fall. the bad elf rose up and stood

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On the edge of the precipice. From thence, did he look
at all those below him – the TWISTED-UP little shnook.

And, now it’s all over. The divorce came and it went;

took Christmas down with it. Oh, the energy spent

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On such wicked darned doings. ‘Was it worth it?’ he thought.
‘Damn straight’ it was brother – ‘cause he didn’t get caught.

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The world lost old santa. He was now santa’s  boy.
screw all those children.  Santa now brought him joy

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As they lay about watching more lifetime in bed,

santa giggling and jiggling - as he gave santa ……cookies.

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[THE EVIDENCE IS CLEAR MY SPACED-OUT FRIENDS. AND, I KNOW YOU’LL DIG IT TOO.

SANTA CLAUS IS WAY OUT….DUDE. YOUR PARENTS WON’T BELIEVE IT’S TRUE.]

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'spaced'

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Santa is an alien. how else, man, could he do it?

It's quantum physics. that's for sure. a door? he'd pass right through it.

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At the subatomic level, things are not what they appear.

And, thousands of miles are nothing to a light beam. That's quite clear.

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Man doesn't have those capabilities. But, one from outer space  

could bounce around this little rock just like he owned the place.

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I don't believe in probing. crop circles are  just a hoax. -

Wishful thinking on the one hand… And real bored country folks.

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But, the delivery of presents - ‘very clever’ if I'm right.

Oh, the research one could accomplish on one strange, protracted night

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of break in after break in - all of christendom asleep.

- Children sworn en masse to silence, taught to ignore it if someone creeps

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across the rooftop, or on the staircase. Oh, and you may see something fly -

bright lights and streaking strobes out of the corner of your eye.

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You heard something? You saw something? You told your parents the next day?

"Just a vivid imagination." 

Your daddy waves it all away.

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An alibi for every episode. of all the liars, santa’s the king?
A golden glow on the horizon? Mommy won't believe a thing.

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"you say you saw a little green guy. Well, that must have been an elf."

imagination is a strange thing. Almost thought I saw one of those myself.

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But, parents know far better than to trust their silly eyes,
or to believe the ravings of a child - listen to their silly lies.

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"you better stop all of that talk boy 'cause Santa Claus will hear.
And, if he hears that, he'll think you're a brat - won't bring a present for you next year."

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What now boy?  You say a little guy approached you - with a big old probe in hand;
then ran away when you drop kicked him in his little swollen glands.

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"Son, an end to late-night cartoons is what I have, for you, in store.”
I should have married my college sweetheart, rachel cohen. I've had enough of christmas. that's for sure.

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THE END

...of this preview

(And, there's a lot more where that came from.)

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[I can edit all day + write all night.

Publisher, let's work real hard - until this book is just right.]

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