Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Santa got creamed by our spaceship
Driving home DUI, he refused to yield.
You can say there's no such thing as UFOs,
As for Santa, he was stuck to our windshield.
He'd been drinking too much Capt. Morgan,
And didn't check his Global Position.
It seems he forgot about the blizzard,
He knew better than to drive in that condition.
When they found him Christmas morning,
At the scene of the big crash
He had Nacelle prints on his forehead
And some serious burns on his moustache.
After we scraped him from our window,
He was making quite a racket.
We drove off in our flying saucer,
It's a shame he was fitted for a straight jacket.
It's not Christmas without Santa,
And all the elves are looking for his sack.
And we on Rigel can't help but wonder
Should we open up those gifts or send them back?
SEND THEM BACK!
Now the earth moon is in eclipse,
And his story about the UFO is famous.
But they're all laughing at Santa,
And say his head must've been up his anus.
I've told all the aliens and the spacemen
If it's to Earth you'd like to run,
Watch out for Santa and his sleigh
Cause he drives like he owns the sky and sun.
Sing it Chewbacca!
Curmudgeon responsible for this post: Hale McKay at 12:15 AM