Tis the day after Christmas and while in Arklay,
I’m bored all to hell as I cope through the day.
I’m sitting at work and the power is out,
just losing my mind and I can’t even shout.

I do not like green eggs and

There’s a biter outside who is making some noise.
I guess that for Christmas he did not get toys.
I walked to the window while grabbing my cup of despair-
and yelled to the biter “You holmes, to Bel- “Hey Jackass, shut up!”

On spotting the biter, a sight did I see,
A sight so absurd that it filled me with glee.
It’s wrapped up in tinsel from head down to toe
and on it’s head rotted an old Christmas bow.

Yo. My gangsta’ flow

I should not have eaten that old turkey wing
because I could swear it was trying to sing.
If I did not know better, it sure would appear
that this thing was trying to spread Christmas cheer.

I reached for my gun and I fired a shot
’cause Christopher Kringle this thing sure is not.
The bullet flew true and went square in it’s head
I cackled with joy when it fell over dead for good this time.

Now, I’m not a poet. I really don’t care,
‘Cause this was a story that I had to share with whoever finds this book
Let this be a lesson for old and for new:
I cannot stand Christmas.

I hate biters too.