‘Twas the night before the holiday bash,
Mabel needed blood from the Butcher’s stash.

The Butcher declared, “I’ll get blood from the clown,
He’s about to die,
His blood’s as blue as the hair on his crown.”

Bonkers, the bully, as nasty as can be,
Warned, “Butcher’s fate is sealed, just wait and see.”

Meanwhile, Mabel stirs her bubbling stew,
Watch out—those ingredients may just include you.

Though married to Butcher and several men galore,
Mabel’s eye’s on Butler—what’s wrong with one more?

Precious greets guests with a wicked grin,
As mean as ever, with mischief within.

Mabel shouts orders from dusk until dawn,
But Precious looks over and—POOF! She’s gone.

Santa poses for photos by the holiday tree,
Trust me—don’t sit on his knee!

Jack Frost’s got a bone to pick with the Elf on the Shelf,
He’ll get back at you, whether it’s good for himself.

Mabel’s old friend, Scrooge, long gone and dead,
Be kind to him—or off goes your head!

Raven’s dug a grave in the family plot,
He knows who’s in it—but he’s not telling a lot.

In the morgue, the examiners work with great care,
But stay too long, and you’ll wish you weren’t there.

The Grinch, who despises holidays with glee,
Is in Butcher’s room, and his body’s amok—happily.

The Twins like company, that’s clear to see,
But if one stands up—you’re likely to pee.

The Clowns usually fun, are in quite a mood,
They don’t like your intrusion, and they’re out for some food.
They pop out of nowhere, and grab at your feet,
They love smelly toes—they’re a tasty treat.

Mabel is gone, vanished out of sight,
Happy Holidays to all, and to all a good night!