Stuck up

Father gets home and dislikes what he sees,
Once again a dick on the snowman they built,
Inside he storms and scolds his child,
Again I broke that dick so you ought to feel guilt.
The child shudders as mom watches on,
And father finally calms down,
When he goes away the child remains,
Perplexed with a veritable frown.
Night comes along and the house is asleep,
But outside there stirs some snow,
Crunching under feet as something moves,
In the dark a shape from the patio.
It's not Santa, no,
It's too early for that,
It's not a squirrel,
And it's not a cat.
The figure picks up the snowman's broken dick,
And rubs it together between two palms,
Reattaching the phalus we can see who it is,
Why it's none other than the household's mom.
So that's the story of the horny snowman,
Father does not know the plight,
But it doesn't matter for it's that time of year,
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.


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