How the Grinch Stole Christmas 2: Payback Time

On that cold Christmas morning…

all the presents were missing!

No Nutcrackers, candy, no mistletoe for kissing!

No presents, no Roast Beast, no food and no eating!

No singing sea bass with a stocking cap and smug greeting!


Everything, sirs, had been taken away-

A most massive robbery on this Christmas day!

When I wakened my face became grim and aghast-

For my house, it was empty, and my heart was abashed!


I raced to my daughter’s room to be assured of her safety…

When I arrived, she smiled most bravely.

“Merry Christmas, dear Papa!” she said with a grin.

“Don’t ‘Merry Christmas’ me,” shouted I as I ran to get gin.

But the gin wasn’t there; no, the gin was gone too

I sadly remained a sobrietous Who.


I threw my fists at the Heavens and roared in a rage.

Nothing less than avengment my hate would assuage.

To the Who-phone did I rush in a furious who-huff

To call up my Who-neighbor Walter Whosits McGuff!


“Walter,” I sputtered into the phone,

“I’ve been robbed, blast, dagnappit!”

I wasn’t alone.

My dear who-friend Walter told me he’d been robbed too-

Not just him, but his neighbors, and theirs; every Who!

“At first I thought Santa Claus just skipped right by me,”

“But in fact,” said Walter, “Everything’s gone, even the tree!”


“But we still have each other, and it’s all okay,”

said Walt cheeriliciously, “It’s a wonderful day.”

“Christmas is here, so we should sing and be glad.

Just having no presents is no cause to be sad.”

I found from my neighbors that they all felt quite gay;

Merely having no gifts did not scare their Christmas away.

Their love for their loved ones did not disappoint;

But I could not help but feel they were missing the point.


It’s all well and good that they weren’t shallow, but deep,

But what of the loathsome and botherous creep

Who broke into our homes, where our children SLEEP?

I said we should find him and beat him, and hang him from a tree-

“But he took all the trees,” they said, “How could that be?”

“It’s sweet you’re so innocent, but the real world’s rougher.”

“I demand reparations, this robber must suffer!”

It was right around then a thing happened most queer

In the distance a smelly green Grinch did appear!

He slid into town with a broad Grinchy smile-

And all of our presents were on his sled, in a pile!


It seemed odd to me that he sledded in sliding,

He’d stolen our stuff, so he should have been hiding.

But I wasn’t complaining, mind you, I was thrilled.

The monstrous robber at last could be killed.

But as he whizzed in through the snow that was snowing,

The Grinch said his small heart had been growing.

He said he regretted his dastardly actions.

We could finally punish the bastard’s infractions!

“You shall pay,” I said as I laced a knife with curare.

“But wait,” said the Whos, “He said he was sorry!”

“What difference does that make?” I fully demanded,

“He still stole our stuff, he should be reprimanded!”

“If you let him go now, who knows what he’ll do?

No one will be safe, no man and no Who!

He must be punished most cruelly for this heinous crime!

An eye for an eye, at least some jail time!”

But the Whos they elected to forget and forgive;

No only did they allow this asshole to live,

They even allowed him to come to their feast!

They let this ruthless criminal carve their roast beast!

I’m all for forgiveness, but this? Idiotic!

Am I the only one who thinks this Grinch is psychotic?

He broke into my home! He stole my wife’s panties!

This looked like a job for some mean vigilantes!


So I gathered a torch, and a pitchfork and rope;

I worked up some courage by smoking some dope.

Then as the Grinch walked home from the party,

I bashed his skull in with a jar of Bacardi!

I beat him, and stabbed him; on his body I peed…

I had a good laugh as the bastard did bleed.

But as I prepared for a finishing stroke,

A deep booming voice to me suddenly spoke.

“This is the Who-lice, you must now cease your attack,

“The Grinch, he is innocent, cut him some slack.”

I laughed, raising my pitchfork and said, “Screw this rotter!

And now he must die in the name of my daughter!”


I now sit in Who-Prison, I’ve healed from the Who-Guns,

But this Grinch, he walks freely among daughters and sons.

But I said I was sorry! I can’t comprehend!

Can you say “Double Standard,” for Grinches, my friend?


1 Comment

  1. J.K. Reply

    More. More! I want an entire book: Heinous Nursery Rhymes & Fucked-up Fantasy Children’s Stories by Casey P. Moriarty.

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