'Twas the Night Before Christmas, and all through the Consortium's flat,
Not a creature was stirring, well, only a rat.
He sat on his bed, eyeing his freshly cleaned Glock
And with a sweet sigh and a stroke of his cock.
He moaned, "I hate Christmas, I'm always alone,
Mulder's at the office, and Scully's gone home,
Marita's a bitch, and young Spender's dead,
God, I'm desperate enough to crawl into CSM's bed!"
But suddenly outside there was a clunk, and a jingle of bells,
As Santa uprighted his sleigh with a half-dozen hells
He came down the chimney as quick a a blink
And just before you could wink
He filled all the stockings with presents for these future kings,
Like gene cataloging software, guns, and those ice picky things,
Cartons of Morleys, and WordPerfect Nine,
And then behind him, he heard a soft whine.
"Well, Alex, my wicked little star,
What did you want for Christmas, more caviar?"
"Oh, Santa!" He answered, "I know I haven't behaved,
But please oh please, I need to get laid!"
Santa sighed. "Oh on Blitzen's balls,
I'm afraid I'm all out of inflatable dolls,
But all right, I can grant your one wish,
If you really and truly insist."
He unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants,
Pulled the condoms and lube out of his sack with a glance.
And that night Alex was quite jolly,
Although after Santa left, he puked under the holly.
And while he was sick, his eyes missed the sight
Of Santa zooming off into the night,
Screaming, "Merry Christmas to all you damned jerks,
And oh hell, does my ass ever hurt!"
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