By: Anna Kittrell
‘Twas the night before Christmas, alone in the house
Mrs. Claus waits for Santa—that two-timing louse
She’d found the black stockings no good girl would wear
Proof that St. Nick had a naughty affair
She’d cooked and she’d cleaned, and each day made the bed
She’d knitted that cap he wore on his bald head!
She’d served him warm cookies and cold milk on tap
Yet, no gift he’d left for his wife to unwrap
Mrs. Claus gave a smile that could cause bones to clatter
Santa would pay for those dreams he’d let shatter
He’d treated her feelings like unwanted trash
His love was as fake as Monopoly cash
Now tables were turning, and soon he would know
Her scrimshaw doll, Rosa, wrapped up with a bow
Tucked away in his toy sack, but soon to appear
Her unholy presence would spook the reindeer
For a brittle antique, she moved eerily quick
It would take her but moments to pummel St. Nick
She’d easily beat the elf at his own game
Betrayal was Rosa the Doll’s middle name
By now he’d regret hooking up with that vixen!
When Rosa was done, he’d be way beyond fixin’!
No way to escape the sheer wrath of that doll
She only hoped children would not see him fall
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
So all through her mind thoughts of Santa Claus flew
His sleigh full of toys, and the scrimshaw doll too
Then with sudden inkling, she needed more proof
If he wasn’t cheating—she’d made a huge goof
But now it was too late to turn things around
She cringed as she pictured his sleigh tumble down
Tears sprang to her eyes, and with sobs her chest shook
What she wouldn’t give to have just one last look
Was that footsteps she heard on the roof of their shack?
Had Santa escaped and somehow made it back?
His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His kissable lips were drawn up like a bow
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow
He winked, and his smile showed a flash of white teeth
With his gloved hand he led her ‘neath the mistletoe wreath
A warmth like fresh gingerbread spread through her belly
The look in his eyes turned her insides to jelly
Had the scrimshaw doll spared the jolly old elf?
It had to be true—she could see for herself
He tipped her chin upward and lowered his head
His kiss told her that she had nothing to dread
There could be just one reason that curse didn’t work
Santa must have been faithful—not a two-timing jerk
“Hurry up, darling, get out of those clothes
I simply must see you in those fishnet hose”
She changed in the bedroom, and he gave a whistle
They flew to the bed like the down of a thistle
Mrs. Claus smiled, enraptured, as Nick got it right
Betrayed, Rosa seethed in the toy sack all night…
To learn more about Rosa the Scrimshaw Doll, download my book, Skinbound. On sale for just .99 cents!
Click book cover for buy link.