DETAINED |
23rd Precinct - 1955 - |
- so go ahead and frisk me, do ya' worst. |
"No lawyer, huh?" the first detective grunted at the broad.
"None necessary," cried the skirt. "I ain’t been charged with fraud."
"But killing Santa Claus? Why, that's a capital offense."
"I told ya’ once I didn’t do it. What, are youse guys dense?"
The second dick switched on the tape recorder. "Don’t be smart!"
The first, his hands behind his head, leaned back. "Okay, let’s start."
Did someone see you? Sure they did. I went there with an elf.
He’ll verify the time and place? No, I’ll do that myself.
But blood was splattered on your shoes. Your slip revealed white hairs.
Santa Claus got frisky when I passed him on the stairs.
"Explain the shiny nose we found, dismembered, in your purse."
"A firefly with an ulcer," Dixie told him, getting terse.
"And what about the antlers we discovered in the trunk?"
"An antler here, and antler there - Hey, boys, we was drunk."
The first detective shuffled through some papers, and he sighed.
The second struck a match; it touched his Lucky Strike, and died.
"It’s Christmas Eve!" the smoking dick exclaimed, and shook a fist.
"We found this in the glove compartment - Santa’s naughty list!"
"He wasn’t gonna use it!" Mrs. Claus replied in haste,
"And guys, I ain't the kind to let a good thing go to waste."
At last, resigned to failure, they released her to the night.
Snow with sludge was falling, no carolers in sight.
Across the precinct parking lot foul Dixie made her way,
Toward poor disfigured Rudolf
Standing all alone,
by Santa’s sleigh.
Max Pearson - 1998