The Night Before Christmas

and have their own peculiar clientele. And these people dress kinda weird and have their own weird vocabulary. We like to do the same thing for ya now. The night before Christmas. The way you might hear it in one of these little evening places.

Light. Man. It was this night before Christmas and all through the pad. Not a creature was stern. They was all cool and dead. The reefers were stashed into curtains with care and hoped that the FBI wouldn't look there.

My mother and needle had me with my pot and roll set to turn on with some stuff we just got. When all of a sudden their old such a den, I thought the police was trying to get in.

But down to chimney with the greatest of plums came this cat Santa Claus like a hydrogen bomb. He had big horn rim glasses over deep sunken eyes. His word took cedos like an Earth person, skies.

He spoke not a word, but he began to unload. And like, man, we was amazed at the supply that his cat showed. There was needles and pennies and capsules galore, an embutol and milked on bills by the store.

Oh, man, the charge was the coolest. All green and chis ripe, even through an opium pipe. Now I don't know this cat's connection, just what it does. Like it's cooler that way, on a kind of a fuzz.

But I heard him exclaiming, as he started to go. Merry Christmas! And all that jazz. And Daddy-O. Mimes! World is busy at Christmas time. The evergreens have to spruce themselves up.