Twas the Shite Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas 

I was tossing in bed

As the bourbon spiked eggnog hosted

a rave in my head

Those shots of Christmas cheer were so yummy and so sweet

Until I puked in the kids’ stockings 

and on my drunk husband’s feet

As I struggled in bed

I knew what was the matter

Those damn sugar plums were dancing 

on my booze filled bladder 

So, I crept out of bed, not to wake my snoring spouse 

He's so fucking loud-  I want to sucker punch him in the mouth. (But it’s Christmas so I won't)

I shuffled down the hall, impatient for relief

I stopped in my tracks when I smelled some 

((sniff- sniff)) 

hot beef

Had I left something cooking, was the crackpot still on?

But why was it wafting from the powder room john?

I gripped the glass knob to the old bathroom door

There, rang a loud fart, a low grunt, and one fart more

I nervously knocked 

wondering who was inside

A voice chuckled, "ho-ho" followed by a meek, "occupiiiied"

I couldn’t believe it, it just couldn’t be true

This year’s number one present, was Santa’s number two

As my fists hit the door, I heard a woosh and a flush

As I barged in the room, Santa had left in a rush

The toilet seat was left up, my good hand towels in the sink 

There were cookie crumbs on my throw rug

and ‘Oh Holy Night’ did it stink

I lit scented candles

and wondered 

how’d he slipped out of sight

The room bore no windows…

Bastard slid down the shit pipe!

How rude, I exclaimed as I sat down to pee

When I heard Santa swearing

"Da’ fucks happening to me?"

Oh no, my mistake, I completely forgot

The plate of cookies he gobbled was loaded with pot

I should've felt awful, poor Santa was wasted

But he stunk up the bathroom so bad 

I could taste it

I did hear him exclaim as he flew through the night

What’d ya put in those cookies 

I have 15 reindeer- right?

Merry Christmas St. Nicholas

you jolly old elf

The next time you visit 

keep your FARTS, to yourself. 

2015 Dillon Critter Xmas Letter

2015 Critter Christmas Letter

Narrated by Quincy the Magnificent

Collaborations with the Dashing Igor  

Stupid Answers by Yeti Spaghetti

Typed by the Frigging Katz

Bunson, Moby, Poe, Fathead, Lil B, Lily, Mama, Petunia, Beepers, Splave & Shocky

This year we decide to use the letters of the phrase MERRY CHRISTMAS to spell out what Christmas means to us.

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M - Is for money. It’s the reason for the season, right? (Yeti is babbling in the background)  What are you talking about Yeti? The reason for the season is Jesus? But….Jesus doesn’t start with an M. You’re an idiot go sit in the corner.

E - Is for Eggs from mommy’s ovaries that she attempted to sell on Ebay to get money for Christmas. She’s sad because no one wants them. I don’t know why? I bet they would taste delicious scrambled or on toast.

R – Is for Rabbit turds. That is some delicious shit. It’s organic and non- GMO. We asked mom for a rabbit so we could feed him and watch him make its own poop.  He would be our own little vending machine. His name would be Stefan. We’d cheer him on chanting, “Poop Stefan Poop - Poop Stefan Poop -Poop Stefan Poop.” I bet you’re chanting along too. It’s catchy. Just like crotch crickets.

R – Is for Richard. He’s one of our human pack we lost this year. It is customary in the canine world to eat the deceased pack member and create a beautiful poop sculpture from their remains and undigested corn with our sphincters, thus honoring their life. Unfortunately, we were given the smack down at the funeral home just as we tied on our bibs and pulled out the spoons. No one understands the importance of tradition any more.

Y – Is for Yeti. He is da CUTEST doggie in all of da hood. He’s even better looking than his brothers, Quincy & Igor. Mom and Dad love him da bestest.  --------WAIT A HAIRY goddamn MINUTE!  YETI??  Did you write this crap?  Guess where that ‘Elf on the Shelf’ bastard is gonna be loobed and crammed? Yeah, it rhymes with ass.  Okay, it IS ass, YOUR ass. I suck at rhyming.

                                                                 **********************

C – Is for Crotches. During the holidays people’s crotches smell fantastic. Yumm…Cinnamon, eggnog and sometimes HAM scented balls. It’s like mistletoe for dogs. And don’t even get me started with the delicious bouquet and succulent aromas that waft from asses.  Oh yeah, ASSES!  (See letter A.)

H – Is for Hairballs. Which eventually will become another cat or dog. Here’s one in the morphing stage now.  

It’s just a baby but soon it will become another stray that my stupid parents will take in. But alas, some hairballs won’t make it past the fetal stage. Their lives will be snuffed out and sucked into the vacuum before they reach the first trimester. Damn you Unplanned Hairball-hood! 

R – What the hell?  The letter R AGAIN? Pfft….NEXT!

I – Is for Impotence. We heard mom and dad talking about some chick named Mary. Apparently her man, Joseph, was impotent so she went out looking for a one night stand. She got liquored up on some Pina Coladas and met this gangsta who went by the name, The Notorious G.O.D.  He offered to give her a baby so they shared a Big Mac which must have been loaded with what is known in most religions and restaurants alike as ‘Special Sauce’ and two weeks later –‘BAM’- Mary shot a kid out next to a freaking cow. UGH! How did I not know that cramming a big mac in my mouth filled with creamy special sauce is how you made a baby? That’s the LAST time I share a Big Mac with Igor. We don’t need another baby in this damn house. And just what does this have to do with Christmas is beyond my fuzzy little ass.

S – Is for Smothering our baby brother Yeti. Igor just can’t seem to smother him in his sleep but it’s not for lack of trying! He’s like Jason from the Friday the 13^th movies. The little bastard just won’t stay down! 

T – Is for Trees. Glorious trees to piss on.  R Kelly had the right idea. You can thank me later. The brother pens a memorable Christmas tune.  This is dad’s favorite song. 

  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Syqo3L-WbCo

M – Is for Jesus. (Igor)- What? There’s no M in Jesus?  (Quincy) This shit AGAIN? *sigh* Come on! Da MAN got the first six letters in Christmas.  Are you one of those right wingers trying to take Jesus out of Christmas? I bet you’re the one who took prayer out of school and gluten out of bread!  (Igor)- Hell no. I love gluten. If fact, I ask for EXTRA gluten when I go out to eat.

  I HEART GLUTEN

A – Is for Asses! We found that the best way to drink booze is through our asses. Why the ass? Well, your sphincter is filled with a rich cornucopia of blood vessels and mucus membranes that absorb the booze into the bloodstream which gets you drunk as HELL. So when dad attempts to sniff our breath because his scotch has been drained, we are in the clear!  Butt chugging is the way to go! Unless Igor farts. His ass just can’t hold its liquor. 

S – Suck our Sorry Sacks you mongrels. There’s barely one mention of us cats in this letter. We gave you GREAT letter meanings and you Screw them all up. We hope Santa Shits in your Stockings!  Oooh, that’s 7y S’s. YATZEE!

 

And to All A Good    Night                          

Yeti

Quincy

      IGOR