Guardian: Well, I was reading over my fic, "The Prince that Stole Christmas", and I wondered to myself if I could parody anything else this year.....so, here it is!On the other side of the Santa-Scale: St. Vegeta!!!

Disclaimer; Guardian of the Foresaken doesn't own DBZ or anything like that.Screw you.Merry Christmas.

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'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Vegeta soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of dragon balls danced in their heads;

And Chi-Chi in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I teleported,

Tore open the shutters and got my thought sorted.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little driver, so lively and edgy,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Veggie.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dumbass! now, Dunce! now, Pansy and Vixen!

On, Comatose! on Cowpie! on, Dumcoff and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of Kami-knows-what, and St. Vegeta too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Vegeta came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they scared me! He was not merry!

His cheeks were quite colorless, his nose was unlike a cherry!

His droll little mouth was stretched in a frown,

And the tail out behind him reached down to the ground;

The stump of a guy's finger he held tight in his teeth,

And the blood from it got on our Christmas wreath;

He had an angry face and a well-defined belly,

That I'm certain had never shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He wasn't chubby or plump, not a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A a glare of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon absolutely filled me with dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his middle finger aside of his nose,

And giving a menacing nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,

"I hate this job........Merry Christmas, have a crappy night!"

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R&R, please!!!