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'Twas The Night Before Christmas, 2000 ‘Twas the night before Christmas 2000, and all through the White House Not a Clinton was stirring, not even the spouse; In the oval office, their lay a pubic hair— A sign that for eight years Slick Willy had been there. Everyone was nestled all snug in their bed, While visions of Vince Foster’s body danced in Hillary’s head; Ho, Ho, Ho is what Billy dreamed of in glee First Paula, then Jennifer, then Miss Lewinsky. When out on the lawn, three gunshots were heard, Then dropped from the sky a hail of reindeer turd; A boom-box blast of R&B came from upstairs, As the smell of deep-fried chicken filled the air. Billy awoke, his hair in a heave What could be happening, he thought, on his presidency’s last Christmas Eve? He went up to the roof, climbing in a hurry Hoping for a surprise, preferably well-rounded and furry. And there standing in the snow, was a fat man carrying a sack On the side of him, a sleigh, manufactured by Cadillac; His suit was thick and red, with gold buttons too It said on the label, it was made by Fubu. There were no reindeer, no Dasher, no Blitzen For this man, his wife was the only vixen; His presence was bold and certain, as by the chimney he stood Yup, you guessed it: it was Santa from the Hood. Billy’s expression brightened, when he thought of his mother, Who once told him, on a cheap Christmas, that Santa was a Brother. “Oh, Santa!” cried Billy, “somebody’s gonna reward me for my great presidency at last!” “Oh, I’ll reward you,” said Santa, “with a cap right up in yo’ ass.” “But why?” said Billy, “what did I do?” “Not what,” replied Santa, “but rather, who. In ’93, you spiked the tax rate; That, my boy, was certified South Central rape. “And cause of your shenanigans in your final days, ‘I beg your pardon,’ ain’t no longer an innocent phrase. You unleashed nuclear secrets, like long-withheld piss, While you were too busy looking up ‘is.’” "But what about the economy?" "That was cause of three words: Reagan comma Ronnie." At that point, Santa nodded up at heaven, Then slowly from his sack, pulled out an AK-47. The gloomy sky was dark, while the clouds hung low; Did he pop him? Suffice it to say: fahshow! Back onto his sleigh, climbed Santa from the Hood. He was off to Jesse Jackson’s house, to do some more Christmas good.
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