The Horror of 12 Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas, my former soon to be ex-wife gave to me,

divorce papers with a capital D.

On the second day of Christmas my landlord gave to me,

my thirty-day eviction notice.

On the third day of Christmas my best friend gave to me,

a black eye for no real reason.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my doctor said to me,

“Son, this needle won’t hurt in your ass but just a second.”

On the fifth day of Christmas I didn’t know what to do,

so I drank five pints of Johnny-Walker red.

On the sixth day of Christmas I was really in a jam,

as six gang members chased me down the street.

On the seventh day of Christmas things were getting worse,

seven old girlfriends showed up to give me hell.

On the eighth day of Christmas, it didn’t get much better,

eight jury members voted to have me forced to leave the state.

On the ninth day of Christmas on a Greyhound bus,

the driver pulled over and eight screaming people telling me I had to walk.

On the tenth day of Christmas where no place nowhere was in sight,

ten buzzards circled over top my head.

On the eleventh day of Christmas while crawling on a hot sandy dessert,

my watch stopped working at eleven.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, gasping my last breath;

then thank goodness I finally woke up.

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12/2/2018

10;39 p.m. - 10:48 p.m.