Everyone who is anyone knows that Santa has two lists.
One for Naughty, one for Nice, and no child is ever missed.
However, Santa has a third list that only a few have seen
It’s for those kids that are…a little in between.
They’re not quite naughty, at least not all the time,
but they’ve got a bit of problem with being just fine.
It’s not that they’re malicious, or rabble-rousing fiends.
It’s not that they’re jerks, or just nasty and mean.
They’re just different, their halos are askew
The ones that make parents say “What are we gonna do with you?”
This year, Santa gathered up his lists and took his favorite chair,
He checked the Naughty list and found that he was fair.
He perused the list of Nice kids, and nodded in approval
Then he picked up the third list, red pen poised for removal
But there was only one name on this list, one he hadn’t heard before
The Fwoosh was the name, impossible to ignore
He scratched at his beard and inspected the name
While nibbling on a half-chewed candy cane.
“The Fwoosh” he muttered, his breath like a sprig of mint.
“The Fwoosh” he mumbled, wishing that it was a fig-a-ment.
He stayed that way for quite some time, pondering until his chin was sore.
He pondered and chewed, and then he pondered some more.
He pondered as Christmas eve ticked by at such haste
That his candy cane was soon just a peppermint aftertaste.
He pondered until he heard a knock at the door
And Mrs. Claus poked her head in, and asked, “What are you still here for?”
“It’s time to leave, presents, packages and sleigh
“Are all packed away, and awaiting Christmas day.”
Santa looked up at his wife, red-faced and perspiring,
A sight that was not in the least inspiring.
“Santa, what’s wrong, you’re white as a sheet!”
“It’s The Fwoosh,” he cried, “They have me beat!
“A zillion kids I can judge at a glance,.
“This one naughty this one nice, this one rotten, this one deserves a chance
“But this Fwoosh, I’m stumped, completely at a loss
“But I have to label him, right away at all cost!”
So he tapped on the list with his red pen, nerves a-twitter
As Mrs. Claus looked over the list and chuckled a little.
“Oh Santa, The Fwoosh isn’t a child, it’s neither girl nor boy
“It’s a website, where grown men to converse about toys.
“A website?” Santa gasped, “Like, the internet and such?”
Of the internet, he had to admit, he didn’t know much
He knew it had started out as a veritable cornucopia
But over the years had grown into a porn utopia
That’s why he hired specialist elves to run his online store
Where he sells Coffee mugs, novelty shirts and trinkets galore
“So the Fwoosh isn’t a child, it’s neither naughty or nice
“I don’t need to check their name once, nor check it twice?”
Santa tossed the paper in the air, and sprang from his chair
“Well it’s time to go my dear, I’ve a sleigh to prepare!”
But just then a clock struck the hour, and tolled six times,
Santa furrowed his brow as he counted the chimes.
“Wait, that can’t be, is that…Christmas day?
“But the presents are all still packed away in my sleigh.
“I had no chance to deliver, oh, no toys for the boys
“No dolls for the girls, no faces full of joy!”
Crestfallen, his head slumped, his beard lost its luster
And he gave the best HO HO HO that his sad frame could muster
“Centuries have passed and I’ve not missed a one,
“Maybe my Jolly St. Nick days are done.”
He picked up the nice list and he picked up the naughty
And with a tone that was bitter and haughty,
Said “It’s all their fault, this Fwoosh, they’re the ones
“Who ruined Christmas for all, and ruined the fun!”
And thus it was Santa made up his mind, quite firmly I think
And wrote their name on the naughty list. In permanent ink!
Merry Christmas!
