Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
(Now I ask you where on this planet would you find a mouse dumb enough to want to live in that house!)
The stocking was hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that old Santa Cat soon would be there.
Little Annie was nestled all snug in her bed;
While visions of teddy mice danced in her head.
The rest were downstairs watching the fire crackle and snap,
Trying to decide on a tasty night cap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
They all stood as one to see what was the matter.
Away to the window they flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to the objects below,
When what to their wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer (mice.)
"Holy crap," Squig muttered under his breath. "He's real!" and then shrieked, "Put out that fire! we don't want to be the family that french fried Santa!"
TO BE CONTINUED