vs. Santa Claus

by Cloud Volpe

'Twas the night before Christmas,

And the Spice Girls were singing.

Ten thousand little girls

Went home, their ears ringing.

Their concert went well;

The girls thought they kicked butt.

But when they got back to the hotel,

Ginger called Posh a slut.

The argument began

From some unknown cause.

Maybe Posh had masturbated

With some of Ginger's gauze.

The fight was soon broken

With each girl scratched and bleeding.

While Baby heard a noise on the roof,

And continued Tee hee-ing.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Scary yelled as she heard,

To the two beaten girls

(Posh had just called Ginger a turd).

"That sound," Ginger said,

"It could be St. Nick!"

"You believe in that?" asked Posh.

"God, you make me sick!"

"I hope it's Santa!" Scary said;

without another pause.

Sporty brightened and asked,

"Do you think he brought Mrs. Claus?"

The mood suddenly shifted

As loud voices came from the hotel doors.

A bunch of angry parents,

Yelling, "You sluts and you whores!

You brainwashed our kids

And made us buy them your shit!

Well, we're here to inform you,

You've sung your last hit!"

With that word, the mob

Broke the hotel room door down,

And from the window

A fat jolly man appeared, wearing a frown.

The crowd stopped in wonder,

Asking, "Who is that old prick?"

"Don't you know?" Sporty asked.

"It must be St. Nick!"

"That's right!" replied Santa,

As through the window he came.

"You think that your children are sick,

And that these whores are to blame?"

"He's right," said the rioters.

"What were we thinking?

We should all go home

And resume eggnog drinking!"

"You morons!" yelled Santa.

"I was making a point!

Carrying the shit made by these girls

Has hurt my back and my joints!"

The Spice Girls stood still

As they heard jeer after jeer,

Until Ginger remarked,

"Well, we're out of here!"

"Not so fast, trailer trash,"

The rioters said as they stopped them.

"We're going to make sure

Your careers hit rock bottom."

"That's enough!" Scary yelled

As loud as she could.

"I have something to say,

If listen you would!

Throughout our career,

We've been mocked all the time,

For lip-synching our songs

And posing nude for a dime!

But isn't this Christmas?

Isn't it about caring?

All of you should not feel

Like killing, but sharing!"

And with that, Scary stopped

While the girls breathed heavy sighs.

For they noticed the rioters

All had tears in their eyes.

"What's wrong with us?" they cried

As they dropped their guns and knives.

"We should not be angry

At girl groups of five!"

Santa looked at the crowd,

Then yelled outside to an elf:

"Hey, toss down my rifle!

I'll kill them myself!"

And with that, the girls panicked

For they knew what would happen

Santa had gone crazy;

He didn't like Scary's yappin'.

The fat jolly man

Came back in with a gun.

With a grin on his face, he told them,

"Better run!"

Sporty spoke first,

Saying, "Santa, you're nuts!"

The old elf pulled the trigger,

And out spilled Sporty's guts.

The rioters scrambled,

As did the Spice Girls,

And with another shot, Posh's head

Disappeared from above her necklace of pearls.

Ginger turned around,

To see who had died,

And couldn't help yelling,

"Yes! That skank's ass is fried!"

Ginger's fatal mistake

(Besides the nude pics)

Was turning around then,

And meeting the bullets that were St. Nick's.

"Three down, two to go!"

Said the unstable tub of lard.

"Only the crack fiend and the airhead…

This shouldn't be hard!"

Scary was yelling for Baby

To run as fast as she can,

But Santa was fast too,

For a chubby old man.

He caught up with Baby,

Spraying her blood on a wall,

And yelled out in triumph,

"I've almost got them all!"

Scary, in the meantime,

Ran fast as she could.

If she could make it outside,

She knew all would be good.

With a big burst of speed,

And a push on the doors,

She left the hotel,

And those four dead whores.

"I can't believe it, I'm safe!"

She yelled for all to hear.

"Now with those other sluts dead,

I can think of a solo career!"

But while Scary rejoiced,

Up above she failed to look,

As a large sleigh pulled by reindeer

Flattened her like a book.

And Santa sat in the street,

Upon his sleigh of death,

And cackled like a madman

When he heard Scary's last breath.

As he drove his sleigh away,

He yelled for all to hear:

"No more Spice Girls merchandise!

This will be a great year!"

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