Christmas Story W. Scott Messer I had heard that every year On Christmas Eve when night was near If Id listen close Id surely hear Santa and his eight reindeer Old Santa the fat, and Rudolf the red And eight other reindeer who powered a sled That could soar through the air like a heleplane jet And Id watched every year, but had not seen it yet I had told the Santa fans That the old mans legend was out of hand In department stores the man is mimicked Hes just another Christmas gimmick Portrayed by a fellow whose real name is Hershel I told them: Santas just commercial But nobody listened to what I had said So late Christmas eve, when all were in bed I sneaked down the stairs with a masterful scheme To prove that St. Nick was no more than a dream My camera was aimed at the fireplace and It stood well concealed on its new, gift wrapped stand The camera was running all the night long Until well after midnight, when Christmas Eve was gone He hadnt showed up, not even an elf I had proved he was untrue, and proud of myself So I turned off my camera and headed for bed I chuckled smugly and then shook my head And thats when it happened, of all the bad fate Someone behind me said: sorry Im late I turned with a start, and there, by the tree Oh, whats the use? Whod listen to me