The day before Christmas dawned without fanfare or fuss.
No trees were gilt gaily, nor stockings trussed -
For you see Emosexuals had been given too much of a run,
And not unlike Atheists, they abhor having fun.
“‘Christmas values offend us” they wittered most shrill,
Until the halfwitted’s inboxes their Twitters(TM) had filled.
“We’ll say Happy Holidays, because Christmas is done!”
But Vladamir Putin was having none!
“Dimitri” he said, his countenance most grave,
“We’ve a country full of people to save,
Because without faith we can have no peace,
As without morality, civility will cease.
We must address the scourge of the Emosexual hordes,
Even now the Devil in his pit, he applauds,
These Emosexual fools too timid to pray,
To an all loving God who condemns homogays,
To the sulphuric pits that they covet most dear,
Through a life of sodomy and beastiality most queer!”
“Emosexuals are most vile!” Dimitri agreed,
“We must liquidate them en masse and at once!” he decreed.
“We’ll outlaw them anon, we’ll apprehend with great haste,
To the Siberian waste ’til their lifestyle is chaste!”
“These silly children know no better, yet their conduct will be vetted,
Until their faith renewed, will be whetted and their rebellion fettered,
THEY. WILL. BE. CHASTE!”
And just then did a miracle seem to occur,
Emosexuals were seized from the streets with nary a slur,
And bundled then into black vans awaiting with unstated grace,
‘Til Emosexual numbers abated and were ferried apace,
To locations where their fringes were frowned on and cut,
And young ladies were taught to not be a slut.
And it must be said as a narrative aside,
That that day upright Russians reclaimed their pride!
IN. SHORT. THEY. WERE. NOW. CHASTE!
But no one had told BVD, who’s jet did then land;
They proceeded to cavort like foul apes, and massage the glands,
Of prostates awaiting to sate with their heat,
They squealed their appeals to desires replete,
With violations in spades visited upon children of tender years,
And continued unafraid confirming the fears,
Of Christian communities ever vigilant in policing of sin,
Who espied Andy Beerstick and his shit eating grin,
Rear-ending Jessie Slaughter, the daughter of liberal scum,
Now consigned to the abyss, whatever may come,
For neglecting their duty as parents, to be a daughter’s best friend,
Their supervision errant, heaven forfend,
They should say no to their angel in devil’s attire,
Despite how her soul might be cast in the fire.
But despair not ye’ fair pilgrims who find this obscene,
For the Saintly custodian did then intervene!
Gallantly charging on a Tiger of white,
Vladimir arrived, and cast quite a sight,
With his barrel chest bared and his rifle loaded,
He sallied forth unassuaged, not to be goaded,
Into relinquishing virtue in favour of vice,
No matter how well the latter may have sufficed,
He’d brook no remit when facing down sin,
He would not acquit ere he road on to win,
So approaching this scene of Beerstick and dread,
He drew out his saber and struck off his head!
Let this stand as a warning to Emosexuals depraved,
That this is how Russian Christmas was saved!