The Alcoholic’s Halloween

‘Twas the Saturday before Halloween, and inside my crib,
All of the candy had been eaten, except for one Nib.
The zombie was hung above the keg with care,
In hopes that some hot chicks soon would be there.

The bottles were arranged in a row on the bar,
But, dammit! I’d left the smokes out in the car.
And mamma in a drunken stupor and I without pants,
Had cashed our third bottle and I’d begun to break dance. 

When out on the porch, a grunting I heard!
‘Twas but my friend, Tea Bag, and his freshly laid turd.
Downwind from the smell, I tried not to stand.
But it stank really bad and I threw up in my hand.

The moon on the mountain of vomit-covered shit,
Made me reach for for a fatty and take a huge hit.

When what to my crying red eyes should appear?
Why, it’s a shot of whiskey and eight cold cans of beer.
Tea Bag handed me the drinks so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment he was just being a dick.

More annoying than pigeons, those I’d invited were lame,
But I pretended to like them as I made up some names.

“Now, Fucker! Now, Woodsman! Now, Pockets and Mittens!
On Red Shirt! On Herr Klaus! On Tea Bag and Shittens!
To the keg on the porch! Don’t play with my ball!
Now shut the fuck up. I’m sick of you all!”

As dry heaves that before the wild beer shits fly,
The suckers took out their money and piled it high.
So into my hovel I invited my guests.
I sighed. There went my hope of fondling some breasts.

And then, as I started to shuffle the cards,
Mittens kicked that ass Pockets right in the nards.
I drew in a toke and was turning around,
When through the front window the Great Pumpkin came with a pound.

He dressed all in skins from his stem to his base,
And I swear that his cod-piece had been made from a face.
A bottle of Jäger he had tipped to his lips,
And he looked like a giant pumpkin taking big Jäger sips.

His eyes – how they despared! His pimples – how runny!
For a smiling Jack-O-Lantern, he sure wasn’t funny.
His evil little grin was curled in a sneer,
And his monstrous green stem made his intentions quite clear.

The stump of a joint he held tight in his mitt,
And he sat at the table, snarling, “Who’s dealing this shit?”
I dealt out the cards and looked at my hand,
The Pumpkin looked puzzled. Did he not understand?

He moved in to kill me; I knew it would hurt,
So between he and I, I positioned Red Shirt. 

The Woodsman picked up his axe and tightened his grip,
I had nothing to do but chew on wax lips.
We spoke not a word as the Woodsman went to work,
He hacked the Great Pumpkin, then had a quick jerk.

I then laid my cards down with all my chips in,
Pointing mockingly at their faces, I claimed my big win.
I took all their money and kicked them all out,
Then I drank some more booze and I started to shout.

Oh, they heard me exclaim as their car hit a tree,
“Happy Alcoholic’s Halloween to all, and by ‘all’ I mean ‘me’.”  

 

 

Happy Alcoholic's Halloween!

 

 

 

 

Hey kids! Don’t forget! The Alcoholic’s Halloween is tonight!!!!