The Chairman Who Stole Christmas

The Chairman Who Stole Christmas

For Nicola; a wrestling fan since Royal Rumble 2000 and a B+ Sister

Twas a cold winter evening in Stamford CT
The Chairman looked out with a heart full of glee
For tomorrow was Christmas, his goose had grown plump
Who cares if his business was stuck in a slump?
He’d made a large fortune through nothing but tricks
Enough for his wife to try out politics
And despite falling interest he couldn’t be sour
He’s managed to increase his show by one hour

Yes, people grew bored of his stagnating style
But they still bought the t-shirts, they bought them in piles
They bought DVD’s of the stars of the past
They bought action figures, they bought them up fast
The Chairman, they said, would soon give up his power
But now, as he stood in his Titan top Tower
He wondered aloud if he needed replacing
He wondered so hard that his legs started pacing

Could he give up, would he quit, could he go?
Would he trust his hot daughter and doofus in law?
Surely they’d ruin his years of hard work
Or bring back his son, the ungrateful jerk
As he paced by the window, a knock at the door
It was big Johnny Ace, the bothersome bore
He hailed to the chairman a warm season greeting
And bowed at his feet before slowly retreating

As Johnny backed out from the room all a-glowing
The Chairman grew loud “Where the hell are you going!?”
“Why Vince, don’t you know, today’s Christmas Eve!
I have to get home to my son, Shorty Steve.”
Vince became angry, his face became red
“Christmas is cancelled!” Big Johnny stopped dead
“But sir..” he replied as his heart slowly sank
“But nothing you fool, we’ve got money to bank!”

“Gather the wrestlers you big nincompoop
Tell them were going to entertain troops.
Iran or Korea or wherever Iraq is
I need to write off some rather large taxes.”
Big Johnny left with a sigh and a grumble
“Merry Christmas.” he said in a mumble
He went to the locker room full of dismay
And informed the boys there’d be no Christmas day

Some of them cursed, and even more still
Threatened to punch and to kick, even kill
The miserly chairman whose greed knew no bounds
(Even I’m liking the way that that sounds.)
Johnny said sorry, he knew that it stunk
They’d all rather be with the rats getting drunk
But Vince was convinced and he never changed minds
Well except 20 minutes before Raw I find

Back in the penthouse The Chairman was scheming
Plotting up ways to bring back the KISS Demon
And make even more dough on KISS branded crap
When he heard from his door a light rat-a-tat-tat.
“What is it now?” bawled The Chairman, ears fuming
Flung open the door as he stood there assuming
To see the bland face of Big Johnny Ace
But instead there was nothing but wide open space

Vince closed the door but he heard it again
That rat-a-tat-tat on the solid door frame
“Is this some sick joke?” he bellowed in vain
Yet nobody answered, no, not even Kane
And then the noise grew, this time inside the suite
It sounded like rustling and shuffling of feet
He clearly heard wailing, a growl like a bear
And finally, loudly, an almighty “Ohhhhh yeeeaaaah!”

“No, it can’t be!” declared Vince, full of fear
“Macho Man Randy Savage, can you really be here?”
Macho Man reached in his bright sequinned jacket
Snapped out a Slim Jim and a brown paper packet
“I am the spirit of those you’ve done wrong
I am but one face, the list is so long
It’s not quite too late to repent your mistakes
But you must make amends before Christmas day breaks.”

“Now wait just a minute,” said Vince in a flash
“I made you a star, you made so much cash!
I don’t really think it’s so wrong what I’ve done
So what if I buried you after you’d gone?”
“I did what I had to, I’d do it again
To conquer our enemies, they’d do the same
I stand by my actions with God as my witness
All that I’ve done has been best for the business”

“You were the ones in the wrong, I can tell
That I won’t be the scapegoat, there’s no chance in hell
I’ve always done things with style and with class
And if that’s not enough you can all kiss me ass!”
Macho Man, seething, removed his sunglasses
He’d heard enough tales about kissing of asses
And while the old chairman was making a racket
He placed on the table the brown paper packet

“What’s this?” said the chairman, as to his surprise
The packet had doubled, no, tripled in size
It rattled and hummed, it was somewhat unstable
Soon it encompassed the whole dining table
Macho Man growled like only he could
The Madness inside him was baying for blood
“You’ve mortified many from nation to nation
But this paper packet could be your salvation.”

“Pah!” said the chairman, his voice never cracking
His concern for the matter disturbingly lacking
“Why should I worry? My life is so grand
I’m a genius, a billionaire, a bona fide brand!”
Macho Man turned to the window and sighed
“I wish we’d made peace before I had died
You may think you’re perfect with nothing to save
But trust me, you’ll soon join me here in the grave.”

“I’ve been to your future, the perks of a ghost
And a lonely heart breaks so much quicker than most
So cherish your present and before you peg it
Open the brown paper packet, you diggit?”
Macho Man whispered a final “Oh Yeah!”
Then disappeared slowly into the thin air
The chairman felt cold and his legs became weak
Just like he’d been humbled by Iran’s favorite Sheik

His eyelids felt heavy, he fought off the sleep
But he crashed in his chair in a slumbering heap
Yet a brief moment later he sat in a start
As a tight, vice like grip took a hold of his heart
He panicked and looked round his chamber in fear
And waited for some other ghost to appear
Davey or Owen or Eddie Guerrero
He checked every corner but no one was there though

The Chairman relaxed, the pain had diminished
He let out a chuckle, the nightmare had finished
“It was but a dream!” he said to himself
But, wait, what was that hanging off of the shelf?
A brown paper packet, much smaller in size
The chairman stood up with surprise in his eyes
He opened the packet, he couldn’t resist
And pulled out a rather large Christmas gift list

A gift for each Superstar, one for each Diva
One for each over and underachiever
One for the other promoters he’d beaten
One for Josh Matthews and one for Mark Yeaton
And more, many more, for the former performers
Previous talent and backstage informers
Road agents, ring crew and wrestlers past
Even Steve Blackman’s name was there last

The Chairman looked down at the list, never ending
Were all these relationships worth the amending?
He’d rather be lonely than do all this spending
And at least his death would be on twitter, trending
But just as The Chairman was ready to sack it
Something else fell from the brown paper packet
A note that his daughter wrote when she was little
Long before his steroid trial acquittal

It was a letter to old Santa Claus
A letter that made the old Chairman pause
When he sat there and saw what his young daughter’s wish was
That her father would be coming back home for Christmas
And then, in his chest, the numb pain returned
It throbbed and it ached, pounded and burned
He thought it was heartburn, too many mince pies
But the truth was his black heart had grown a full size

Right then and there The Chairman decreed
That he’d buy every present that cold Christmas Eve
He’d give them a festive surprise to remember
One that they’d talk about every December
He went through the whole Christmas list once again
A parrot for Barrett, a candle for Kane
A Go-Kart for Bret Hart, for Big Show, gateaux
For Road Dogg a tree frog, oh you didn’t know?

A new pair of trunks for Chicago Made Punk
AJ washed his old ones and, sadly, they shrunk
A steamer for Cena, oh where can he buy it?
A camcorder for Harper, the same for Bray Wyatt
A gold tooth for R-Truth, hard cider for Ryder
Golf balls for Scott Hall, for Nash, a hang glider
So many gifts and and yet so little time
(But it helps that most of them seemingly rhyme)

He worked all night through, making threats, calling favors
He rang up George Lucas for Bookers Lightsaber
Donald Trump helped with a wig for Paul E
Jane Lynch gave Gangrel a boxset of Glee
The Chairman grew tired but still he marched on
Buying new clothes for Ambrose, Fandango and Langston
He couldn’t stop now, he just couldn’t do so
He hadn’t yet purchased the booze for the Usos

But slowly the task was becoming too great
There was still much to buy and the hour was late
The chairman was struggling, knackered and weary
He stopped for a moment, his eyes were so bleary
And then the old chairman said something unwise
“I’ll just have a minute, I’ll just rest my eyes”
He sat in the seat of his limousine Jeep
And before very long he was soundly asleep

Several hours later the chairman awoke
He’d left it too late, daylight had broke
He reached for the car door but to his dismay
He was back in his chamber that cold Christmas day
“How did I get here?!” he shouted in vain
Nobody answered, no, not even Kane
None of the gifts he had bought were there either
None for the Superstars, none for the Divas

The chairman sat there in his big leather chair
Rubbed his tired eyes and straightened his hair
When stood in his doorway was Big Johnny Ace
With his son Shorty Steve and a smile on his face
“Merry Christmas!” they said with a smile
But the chairman wasn’t merry, not by a mile
“Why are you here?” he said in a huff
Wondering who could have stole all his stuff

Big Johnny told him to follow outside
As his massive smug grin became even more wide
The chairman got dressed and looked out in the snow
And what do you think that the old chairman saw?
Hundreds of Superstars, present and past
They all had their gifts, right down to the last
Yes even the last name, a certain Steve Blackman
Carried around his Atari with Pacman

“How can this be?” said the chairman, confused
“I’d fallen asleep, with a snore and a snooze!
Yet everyone here has the gift that they wanted”
Then the look on his face became haunted.
There, in the distance, atop the big pine
Macho Man stood with a glass of mulled wine
He gave a thumbs up and a final “Oh yeah”
And just like before Macho Man disappeared