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A Christmas Story - Santa and His Six Gun

A Christmas Story

written by Dave Workman


`Twas the night before Christmas, cold, dark and foreboding,

As I sat at the work bench, quite busy reloading.

The empties from autumn were polished so clear

For primers and powder, and bullets from Speer



And Hornady's soft-points, and Nosler's Partitions

(MY bench ain't no place for brand name omissions!)

All sat in their boxes, right next to the press

With dies from Pacific, and RCBS



When all of a sudden there came such a jolt,

I grabbed for my Mossberg, and whipped out my Colt.

As I spilled Hodgdon's powder all over the shelf

I scrambled for cover, just to protect myself



From up on the rooftop, came hoofbeats and snorting

Like the noise out of L'il Rock, from Clinton's cavorting!

I eased off the safety, to press-check my auto

With 230-hardball, I'd knock 'em all blotto



Were these rogue federal agents, sent by Schumer and Reno?

Or a staggering Ted Kennedy, in bad need of Beano?

My question was answered with a knock, and some sneezing,

"It's Santa, you moron, lemme in there, I'm freezing!"



I flipped off the dead-bolt and threw the door wide,

To find St. Nick a'shivering, Rudolph by his side

He eyeballed my Springfield, with a nod of approval

"You're all set," he said, "for dirtball removal."



"But this is no raid, we're not here to harm you

Or persecute, prosecute or even disarm you"

Instead, said dear Santa, he needed to borrow

My .357, 'till day after tomorrow



"It's okay," he assured me, with a hint of frustration.

"I'm enrolled in the National Rifle Association"

He showed me his card, 'twas a Life Member rating

"I've had this since me and the missus were dating!"



"And you see, Dave ol' buddy, I've gotten real nervous

"Since Feinstein was elected, with a promise to serve us

"So henceforth as I'm out there, my presents a'stackin'

"I want to assure you, I'm legally packin'



"And my gift for you this year, should give you a hoot

"I've told the Supreme Court to give Brady the boot!

"Now, Rudy and I must be on our way"

He said, as he climbed back on the seat of his sleigh



With the reins in his hand, and my Smith in his pocket

He jingled the sleighbells and was off like a rocket

With a pair of speedloaders, and ammo to spare

I knew he'd be safe, he was loaded for bear



As he faded from view, I could still hear him calling

"From D.C., where 'P.C.' is already falling

"To bad guys in L.A., Detroit and Atlanta

"I'm licensed to carry. Don't be messin' with Santa!"



***********************************************************************************
PART TWO
***********************************************************************************


'Twas the day after Christmas when Santa returned

He was looking quite happy, all trim and sunburned

His sleigh had been emptied, and I'll bet you're all guessin'

If he did the same thing to his borrowed Smith & Wesson



Well the fact of the matter is in need of reporting,

Like the press oughta do about Clinton's cavorting!

Seems Santa encountered some trouble 'long the way,

'Cause some not-too-bright dirtbags tried to hijack his sleigh



When he left Christmas Eve, he was ready for action

And he made real good time, thanks to reindeer hoof traction

He had rag dolls, and capguns, baseballs and bats.

New dresses, toy airplanes, and a few dogs and cats.



Seems these wannabe grinches thought they were hot shooters

So's a bunch of 'em tried to be Christmas gift looters

But the one thing they hadn't expected to meet

Was a licensed St. Nick, packin' full magnum heat.



The night was still young, when these dipwits appeared

Their caps all turned backwards; at least one had a beard.

They were trying to look vicious, as they stood in his path

He could tell in an instant that they needed a bath



One fool made a grab for Comet and Cupid,

But froze when St. Nick had yelled "Hold it, there, stupid!"

When he leveled my sixgun at this crazy-eyed fellow

The snow at his feet turned a pale shade of yellow



It was over real quick," Santa said with a chuckle

As he hauled out my Smith from behind his belt buckle

"Never fired a shot, never pulled back the hammer

"Got the cops on my cell phone, and sent 'em all to the slammer"



After that much excitement, 'twas a rest Santa needed

So with his gift-giving, he quickly proceeded

And when he was finished, Santa issued this order:

"Rudolph, old pal, take us south of the border!"



So now he was rested, and this stop was his last one

And he made it real clear, that it must be a fast one

With my piece back in lockup, he said "Thanks for the loan

"Next year, rest assured, I'll be packin' my own"



And just what, did I wonder, might then Santa unlimber?

A Colt, Sig or Taurus, a Glock or a Kimber?

Perhaps Heckler & Koch, a Kahr or a Ruger?

A wheelgun from Rossi, a Walther or Luger?



"I'm not sure," replied Santa, as he scoped out the weather,

"But I'll contact your buddy, Mitch Rosen, for leather.

"And now, I must leave you, until late next December

"But Dave, I assure you, I will always remember



"You did me a favor, and that's one I owe you

"So when I get my own gat, I'll be certain to show you

"In the meantime, ol' buddy, I'll scream it, I'll shout it

"If you're licensed to carry, don't you leave home without it!"
 






The Strange Family




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