Okay, this is a true story (made into a poem) that appeared in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette today. I know this isn’t funny, but…
The Crime Before Christmas
Friday, December 24, 2004
By Dan Majors, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Twas the night before Christmas and into the house
Santa came limping because of some louse.
He was fine back on Monday, his regular self,
Playing the part of the jolly old elf.
In the town of Shamokin, in Central PA,
He was riding a firetruck instead of a sleigh
In the annual parade down Shamokin’s main streets
Waving to children and passing out sweets.
It wasn’t the real Santa, but he looked just the same
Dressed up in red, Scott Slodysko by name.
It was the second straight year he was playing St. Nick
Not for fame or for money, but just for the kick.
When what to his upper right thigh should he sense
But a blistering blast of pain so intense
That he winced as he rubbed it beneath the red felt
A big black-and-blue mark, a quarter-sized welt.
Still, he stayed on the truck and he finished the ride,
For Santa has courage and Santa has pride.
When the parade was all over he cringed on the ladder.
And the cops came running to see what was the matter.
They soon learned that a serious crime had been done.
A pellet, it seemed, had been shot from a gun.
The police were all angry and put out the word
What had happened to Santa and where it occurred.
Police Chief Richard Nichols conducted a meeting
Where reporters asked questions that they all kept repeating.
The crime was quite baffling, the motive, the cause.
“Who in the world would shoot Santa Claus?”
A pair of patrolmen retraced the parade route.
They came up with a suspect and were soon in pursuit
Of a 17-year-old who was just having fun
Shooting at Santa with his pump-action gun.
Police say Victor Calder is the person at fault
And faces a felony charge of aggravated assault.
Meanwhile, Slodysko does not hold a grudge.
He’s happy to let Calder deal with a judge.
But Santa Claus might not be quite so forgiving.
You have to remember what he does for a living.
Come Christmas morning, it won’t be too shocking
For Calder to find lumps of coal in his stocking.
Merry Christmas.
