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  1. Caution! Naughty poem ahead. (ahem). I have written this poem in bad taste, With much too much haste. And with a degree of immaturity So if you want to safeguard Santa’s purity I suggest you leave now with your and his integrity. Santa and the Ugly Elf By DesDownunder Santa looked at his mighty sleigh Standing at the front door of his chalet, He waved goodbye to all his helpers, Their jobs all were done And Santa’s had just begun. Santa stopped at the door, He was puzzled by what he saw, Two tiny cute turned up shoes Fitted to feet sitting in a puddle All looking something of a muddle. “What’s this,” roared Santa’s voice, “Has someone not got their Christmas toys?” An impish face appeared “It’s only me,” It said “I was just going to bed.” Santa looked and saw his tears “What’s wrong? Tell Santa all your fears.” He picked him up and held him tight. “I’m just an ugly elf,” he cried, “What makes you think that?” Santa sighed. “Well,” he said, “You gave all the other elves, Their Christmas boners for themselves, But none for me so I must be too ugly, For you to care and hold me close, So now, I feel somewhat morose. “Oh Ho, ho, little helper fellow I have not forgotten you, you know, Tonight you ride with me As we go around the world with toys For all the girls and boys.” The little one’s broad grin Made Santa feel good within And off they went into the night To deliver every elf-made toy With happiness and joy. The ugly elf sat in the sleigh Where Santa told him to stay The jolly man breathed in deep Then exhaled to shrink so small That he could slide down the chimneys tall. He left the gifts inside each house, Without disturbing any mouse, He climbed back up onto the roof, Where he held his breath, And regained his giant girth. So when all deliveries were finally done, They reached home before the rising sun, The ugly elf thanked Santa on his way to bed, Santa called out, “Not so fast my little friend, The festivities have not yet come to an end.” Santa turned up the room heater, Stripped off his Santa suit and wife-beater, “I’ve been keeping your present warm,” As he gestured a magic spell with pixie dust, He said, “I’ve left the best for lust.” Santa’s beard fell off as the elf began to twig, That his snow white hair was nothing but a wig, Age gave way to youth and golden hair, As Santa’s six pack grew on his bod, Till he looked just like a Nordic God. “Come to me,” said Santa to the ugly elf, Who jumped down from his shelf, And stripped off his own elfish gear, Jumping into Santa’s arms, Treasuring all his charms. The elf did lap and lick, Appreciating Santa’s trick, Of becoming such a stud, That would let him drain, His six pack again and again. When the arctic sun finally shone across the ice, Both Santa and the Elf were feeling very nice, “Why do this for me? I’m an ugly elf,” He said as he went back to his bobbing, “Nonsense,” said Santa, “You not an elf, you’re a very handsome goblin, gobbling.” And they lived happily ever after, Well at least till next Christmas.
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