That was the night before Christmas, when all through the house,

sound of a creature running, was it a mouse?

I checked in the hallway, but nothing was there,

could it be in the kitchen, i crept down the stairs;

The dogs were asleep, curled up in their bed

dreaming of treats, should i pet this little dogs head?

smiling wide as he laid on his back,

i reach my hand out and this ****ing bitch snapped,

bloody and bleeding, i ran to the sink,

my lady woke up, for a quaint little drink,

gushing like a flood, hands shaking with pain,

the living rooms bloody and covered in stains;

just then i remembered that cute little mouse,

i heard running around downstairs in my house,

i wrapped up my hand, and went to go look,

and saw a fat ****ing rat in the kitchen where i cook,

could it be just a dream? tomorrow ill find out,

if i wake up in pain and find blood through my house

for now i will sleep and forget the night’s sh-t

a broken hand and a rat is a terrible fit