'Twas the night before

[plcdude]

Christmas and all through the Power Exchange house, all the creatures were stirring, one doffing her blouse.

The stockings were hung some by garter belts with care, in hopes that attention would soon be directed there.

The swingers were nestled upon the third-floor beds, while visions of sex acts danced in their heads.

When out upon the main floor lounge there arose such a clatter, some sprang from the lip-shaped love seat to see what was the matter.

Away to the stripper pole they flew like a flash, huddled round the microphone, bodies crushed in a mash.

The black-light glow on the breasts like new-fallen snow, gave the lustre of midday to the lust of the revelers below.

When what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a miniature sex toy and eight vixens dear.

With a small, young emcee, his face fresh by gosh, I knew at the moment it must be young Josh.

More rapid than eagles, his customers they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now Cheryl, Now L.B., now Jen and Stain. On Shontay, on Debbie, on What- the-heck's-the-name-of-that-other-vixen?, go on down to the dungeon again!

To the top of the gay floor, to the cow room you all, now spank away, flirt away, do it up against the wall.

As dry leaves that before the wild orgy fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount with a cry.

So up to the dance floor the contestants they flew, with an armload of toys and Josh Powers, too.

And then in a twinkling, I heard with a few, the prancing and pawing of people trying for a better view.

As I drew in my hand and was turning around, down the stairs from L3 a naked duo did bound.

They were dressed not at all, neither their heads nor their feet, their skin sprayed with glitter, like a disco ball in heat.

A bundle of condoms they clutched in their hands; they looked just like peddlers, peddling the condom brands.

Their eyes how they twinkled, their dimples how daring. Their cheeks were like roses, their nostrils were flaring.

Their droll little mouths were drawn up like some bows, no beards on their chins as white as their toes.

They spoke not a word but went straight to their work, and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying their fingers along the seam of a hose, and giving a nod, brought the contest to a close.

They sprang to their boyfriends, as the crowd clapped and whistled, and away they all walked, to the sex rooms and gristle.

But I heard them exclaim as they walked through the night,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

[plcdude]

1. you can check

out the story here
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2004/12/22/DDGS1AEPGI36.DTL

[goddess40]

2. A Republican Night Before Christmas

A Republican Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the land,
not a critic was stirring, for stirring was banned.
A thousand brown prisoners, snug in their cells,
all held without charges or tinsel or bells;

And mamma was wrapped in the national flag,
while we sang "Where there's never a boast or a brag."
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the TV I flew like a flash;
I then watched "Survivor" and reruns of "Mash."
The fireworks, exploding above the new snow,
gave a luster of objects to people below.

When what saw my wondering eyes in the flashes:
a miniature George Bush and eight tiny fascists!
Their jerseys were blue and said "WORLD DOMINATION";
I knew right away this was not just claymation.

More rapid than eagles the warlords they came,
as the little Bush whistled and called them by name:
"Now, Daschle! now, Ashcroft! Now Strom, don't relent!
On, Poindexter, Rumsfeld! on Henry and Trent!

To the top of the globe, while the crowd's at the mall,
now bomb away, bomb away, bomb away all!"
His sack had a war game for each girl and boy;
his pocket, four billion from just Illinois.

Far up on his high seat the driver did mount,
with more massive weapons than Kofi could count.
And then, I heard sounds from away off somewhere,
the booming of bombs that were bursting in air.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
down the chimney old Dick Cheney came with a bound.
He said not a word, nor disclosed his location;
he wiretapped my house in the name of the nation.

Then holding the strings of his little Bush puppet,
he went to the chimney and quickly rose up it.
The sleigh was still running, but Dick didn't hurry;
gas guzzlers, it seemed, were no longer a worry.

He popped the champagne and exclaimed as he served it,
"The world is now ours, and GOD DAMMM, we deserve it!"