Though Dean Koontz is best known for his bestselling horror and suspense books, this Christmas tale is pure fun for both children and adults. It’s a ryhming, rollicking look at the awful night Santa was kidnapped by his twin brother, Bob Claus, and locked in “a dismal, deep, dark, dank hole” at the North Pole. The twin then proceeds to get into mischief, such as this:

“In the front room, at one of the trees
the bad twin of Santa is on his knees,
giggling as he stuffs another gift box
with a few pairs of smelly old socks.
He snorts and he chortles with evil glee
and mutters, ‘No one will know it was me.’”

But the evil twin’s plans are foiled – and Santa Claus is saved – by two sisters who survive a pie in the face, a ray gun that shoots snow and other challenges. The story is colorfully illustrated by Phil Parks.

And if you enjoy the story of Santa’s Twin, you can follow the adventures of Santa and Bob Claus in the sequel, Robot Santa.

a poem by Debora Dyess

As I watched the cartoon with the Grinch and Max
I felt every one of my muscles go lax.
Sitting on the couch on Christmas Eve
After I’d asked all our house guests to leave.

Drifting in and out of my dreams,
Thinking on Christmas hopes and schemes
I started as I heard a super loud boom
Come from the far end of the living room.

I stood and rubbed my eyes as the Grinch
And Max fell off a cliff, and I flinched.
I rounded the corner out of the den
And stopped there, astonished at what had come in.

An old man, red long-johns and black shiny boots,
A great big beer belly all covered in soot.
“Were you in my chimney?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
“Why yes, son, I was,” he replied, somewhat dazed.

“This house wasn’t even on my list.
What is your name? I guess that I missed
You and your missus as I started my rounds.
It’s a miracle that your trailer even was found.

“You can thank old Donder for that.
He’s a good tracker, though sometimes a brat.”
Then the old man commenced to open a sack
Sat himself down and pulled out his crap!

“You’re not living here!” I told the old feller.
“There’s room for you down at the shelter.
“I’ll drive you there myself, if you’d like.
It’s the least I can do on Christmas Eve night.”

The old man said, “Ho-ho! You don’t understand!”
But I cut him off as I took his hand.
“It’s alright; my pa’s got Alzheimer’s, too.
I know it’s tough, but we’ll get you through.”

I gathered his goodies and put them all in
To the sack as he picked it up once again.
He looked somewhat confused, I steered him to the door,
But he tried to go back to the chimney once more.

“My ride is up there,” he said with a nod.
I felt sorry for him, said, “You talking ‘bout God?”
I took him more firmly by his old, flabby arm,
Intending to keep this poor gent from harm.

“I must get back to my sleigh!” the stranger hollered.
He looked panicked, knowing he had been collared.
I guess that must be when both tempers rose,
Cause that old man punched me right in the nose!

I stumbled backwards, grabbing my face
And the old man ran to get out of my place.
I caught my toe on the edge of the couch,
Bumped my head on the floor and then I was out!

I awoke to find an empty, cold room
Where the fireplace was out. In dark midnight gloom
I looked for the old man; he wasn’t around.
But you won’t believe the thing that I found!

It was a note, tied to my tree,
Signed by Santa, addressed to me.
It said, “I’ve never done this before,
But you’re on the naughty list now – evermore!”

This isn’t good. This is so sad!
The Claus-man thinks I’m really bad!
Ah well, at least my nose didn’t break!
Chalk it all up to a Redneck mistake!

12 Pains of Christmas Lyrics
The first thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me
Is finding a Christmas tree

The second thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me:
Rigging up the lights
And finding a Christmas tree

The third thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me
Hangovers
Rigging up the lights
And finding a Christmas tree

The fourth thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me

Sending Christmas cards
Hangovers
Rigging up the lights
And finding a Christmas tree

The fifth thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me
Five months of bills!
Sending Christmas cards
Hangovers
Rigging up the lights
And finding a Christmas tree

The sixth thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me:
Facing my in-laws
Five months of bills!
Oh, I hate those Christmas cards!
Hangovers
Rigging up these lights!
And finding a Christmas tree

The seventh thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me:
The Salvation Army
Facing my in-laws
Five months of bills!
Sending Christmas cards
Oh, geez!
I’m tryin’ to rig up these lights!
And finding a Christmas tree

The eighth thing at Christmas that such a pain to me:
I WANNA TRANSFORMER FOR CHRISTMAS!!!!
Charities,
And whataya mean “YOUR in-laws”?!?
Five months of bills!
Ach, making out these cards
Honey, get me a beer, huh?
What, we have no extension cords?!?
And finding a Christmas tree

The ninth thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me
Finding parking spaces
DADDY, I WANT SOME CANDY!!!!
Donations!
Facing my in-laws Five months of bills!
Writing out those Christmas cards
Hangovers!
Now why the hell are they blinking?!?!?
And finding a Christmas tree

The tenth thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me:
“Batteries Not Included”
No parking spaces
BUY ME SOMETHIN’!!!
Get a job, ya bum!
Facing my in-laws!
Five months of bills!
Yo-ho, sending Christmas cards
Oh, geez, look at this!
One light goes out, they ALL go out!!!
And finding a Christmas tree

The eleventh thing of Christmas that’s such a pain to me:
Stale TV specials
“Batteries Not Included”
No parking spaces
DAD, I GOTTA GO TA BATHROOM!!
Charities!
She’s a witch…I hate her!
Five months of bills!
Oh, I don’t even KNOW half these people!
Oh, who’s got the toilet paper, huh?
Get a flashlight…I blew a fuse!!
And finding a Christmas tree

The twelfth thing of Christmas that’s such a pain to me:
Singing Christmas carols
Stale TV specials
Batteries Not Included
No parking!
Waaah!
Charities!
Gotta make ‘em dinner!
Five months of bills!
I’m not sendin’ them this year, that’s it!
Shut up, you!
FINE! YOU’RE SO SMART, YOU RIG UP THE LIGHTS!!!
And finding a Christmas tree

Funny 12 Days of Christmas – Indian Style

Funny 12 Days of Christmas – 12 Guido Days of Christmas

Funny 12 Days of Christmas – JibJab Farting Elves

Funny 12 Days of Christmas – 12 Days AFTER Christmas

12 Days After Christmas Lyrics
The first day after Christmas
My true love and I had a fight
And so I chopped the pear tree down
And burnt it, just for spite
Then with a single cartridge
I shot that blasted partridge
My true love, my true love,
my true love gave to me.

The second day after Christmas
I pulled on the old rubber gloves
And very gently wrung the necks
Of both the turtle doves
My true love, my true love,
my true love gave to me.

On the third day after Christmas
My mother caught the croup
I had to use the three French hens
To make some chicken soup

The four calling birds were a big mistake
For their language was obscene

The five golden rings were completely fake
and turned my fingers green.

The sixth day after Christmas
The six laying geese wouldn’t lay
So I sent the whole darn gaggle to the
A.S.P.C.A.

On the seventh day, what a mess I found
The seven swans-a-swimming all had drowned
My true love, my true love,
my true love gave to me.

The eighth day after Christmas
Before they could suspect
I bundled up the
Eight maids-a-milking
Nine ladies dancing
Ten lords-a-leaping
Eleven pipers piping
Twelve drummers drumming – well, actually I kept one of the dancing ladies -
And sent them back collect
I wrote my true love
“We are through, love!”
And I said in so many words
“Furthermore your Christmas gifts were for the Birds!”

I hear that you’ve been naughty.
So listen, here’s the scoop.
Instead of getting coal this year,
You’re getting snowman poop!

Snowman Poop Poem (Santa’s viewpoint)
This variation is very similar to the poem above, but it’s worded as if it’s written by Santa Claus.

I heard that you’ve been naughty,
So listen, here’s the scoop…
I’m running short on coal this year,
So here’s some snowman poop!

Snowman Poop (Sweet Dreams Version)
This poop poem is a bit longer and abandons the idea that the recipient is getting snowman poop as a punishment. In fact, in this version, the sweet treat also promises sweet dreams.

In the cold of winter when snow arrives,
The snowmen dance and feel alive.
If you follow in their tracks,
You’ll find little droppings from their cracks.
Round and white, so sweet and light,
Eat one or two for sweet dreams tonight!

Snowman Poop (Sweet Dreams Version #2)
In this version of the poem, the recipient is again getting snowman poop as a punishment, but they can still have sweet dreams.

Santa came and went last night
Traveling on his worldwide loop.
Because you weren’t so good this year
You get no coal, just snowman poop.
Round and white, tasty and light
Eat some for sweet dreams tonight!

Snowman Poop (Santa Stocking Version)
This variation works well for snowman poop that is left in someone’s Christmas stocking.

Santa looked at his list,
Even checked it twice.
And he’s seen that you’ve not been very nice.
Since coal’s so expensive, here’s the scoop –
Santa’s filling your stocking
with snowman poop.

Snowman Poo
You better watch out, you better not cry. Santa’s watching and bringing “poo” instead of “poop.”

He knows that you’ve been bad –
Santa’s always watching you.
So all you get for Christmas
is this snowman poo.

(This list was reprinted from Snowman Poop Poem at HubPages.)

Twas the Month After Christmas

‘Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies I’d nibbled, the eggnog I’d taste
At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).

I’d remember the marvelous meals I’d prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,

The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I’d never said, “No thank you, please.”

As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt—

I said to myself, as I only can,
“You can’t spend a winter disguised as a man!”

So away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip.

Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
’til all the additional ounces have vanished.

I won’t have a cookie–not even a lick.
I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick.

I won’t have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie.
I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore—
But isn’t that what January is for?

Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!

- Author Unknown

‘Twas the night before Christmas and Santa’s a wreck…
How to live in a world that’s politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to “Elves,”
“Vertically Challenged” they were calling themselves.

And labor conditions at the North Pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.

And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.

Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called “Unenlightened.”
And to show you the strangeness of life’s ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she’d enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, why, he’d ne’er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.

Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that’s warlike or non-pacific.
No candy or sweets…they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.

And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football…someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe’;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you’ve got to be careful with that word today.

His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.

A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere…even you.

So here is that gift, it’s price beyond worth…
“May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth.”

copyright Harvey Ehrlich, 1992

Notice: This poem is copyright 1992 by Harvey Ehrlich. It is free to distribute, without changes, as long as this notice remains intact. All follow-ups, requests, comments, questions, distribution rights, etc should be made to mduhan@husc.harvard.edu. Happy Holidays!

Here’s a funny Christmas project that kids will love.  With this reindeer poop poem and recipe, you can turn chocolate candy into a fun gag gift.  It’s quick, easy, inexpensive and fun!

Reindeer Poop Recipe
1 Package of malted milk balls, Milk Duds, or other chocolate candy
1 plastic bag
1 reindeer poop poem (below)

Directions
Take the package of candy and pour into the bag. Seal the bag. Print the poem and attach it to the bag. That’s it.

Reindeer Poop Poem
Without the poem, all you’ve got is a bag of chocolate candy. Add the poem and you’ve magically turned chocolate into reindeer poop! So here’s the magic poem you’ll need to complete the fun.

I woke with such a fright when I heard Santa call…
“Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!”

I ran to the lawn and in the snowy white drifts,
those nasty reindeer had left “little gifts.”

I got an old shovel and started to scoop
neat little piles of reindeer poop!
But to throw them away seemed such a waste,
so I saved them, thinking-you might like a taste!

As I finished my task, which took quite awhile,
Old Santa passed by and he sheepishly smiled.
And I heard him exclaim as he sped off in the sky…
“Well they’re not potty trained, but at least they can fly!”

For a formatted copy of the reindeer poop poem in Microsoft Word that looks like the image above, visit How to Make Reindeer Poop on Squidoo.