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Twas the week before Christmas
And all through the Strand
It was so goddamn crowded
Things got out of hand.
The books pyramided
By all those employed
Were knocked over, misplaced,
Or even destroyed.
The patrons were rowdy,
Not a single one cares.
(In fact, one old woman
Just shat on the stairs).
So I with my nametag
And snazzy bow tie
Headed to the South bathroom
To have a good cry.

When what to my young weary eyes should
appear
But Donald J. Trump in a sleigh pulled by
reindeer!

He broke through the front window
To all our amazement
(Which incidentally caused
Another flood in the basement).

He got out of his sleigh,
And everyone screamed!
He was even more repulsive
Than anyone had dreamed.
His face was bright orange.
His toupee…how shiny!
His belly, quite big.
His hands, oh so tiny!
“I’m fucking up Christmas,”
Said the master of gluttons
As he messed up the totes
And pushed over the buttons.
He destroyed every pouch,
Every Strand special box.
But the worst part of all…
He mixed up all the socks!
And to top it all off,
He chuckled with zeal
And replaced every book
With The Art of the Deal.

The booksellers screamed.
The managers quit.
Ben McFall calmly said,
“I’m too old for this shit.”

Ben picked up some books
And hurled them at Trump.
They hit him in the chest
With a defeated ka-thump.
Trump cried “Nice try!
Now I’m kickin’ your ass!”
Ben said, “No you won’t!
I’ve been here since Fred Bass!”

But before Ben or Trump
Could shout any more,
Hillary Clinton herself
Burst through the front door!
She was in her own sleigh
With some reindeer as well,
And she rode past TBEST
Like a bat out of hell.
She headed toward Trump
With a murderous look,
Pausing only to sign
A few copies of her book.
“The game is up, Trump,”
Hillary said with a frown.
“You’re the worst grinch of all,
And I’m taking you down.”

Trump roared like a madman
And lunged at Ms. Clinton.

Punches started flyin’,
And no one was quitin’.
I cried, “We must stop them!
This whole thing’s obscene!
Let’s save Hillary Clinton
(And then take our fifteen).

The booksellers and I
Rushed to fortify Strand.
Even Flor and Crystal
Came to give us a hand!
We grabbed every button
And pin we could find,
Then hurled them with fury
At Donald’s behind.
“Youch!” was Trump’s
Surprised, painful sound
Before he fell back and
Collapsed to the ground.
So Hillary had the high ground,
Then right in the kisser
She punched Donald Trump
And knocked out that pisser.
She joined with the workers,
And together that horde
Scooped Trump up and threw him
Out with the cardboard.

The bookstore was saved!
And despite being annoyed,
Everyone was relieved
And quite overjoyed.
Hillary jumped in her sleigh
And thanked all those involved.
Trump was defeated;
All problems resolved.

And I heard her exclaim
As the reindeer desisted,
“Merry Christmas, Strand workers!
Nevertheless, you persisted.”

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