Twas the night before Christmas and in every cell
Not an inmate did stir from their personal hell
The Scarecrow, in cotton instead of burlap
Had just settled down for a thorazine nap
When out in the hallway, the squeaking and pops
Left him snapping orders - the noises should stop!
When what to his wondering eyes should appear
But a hugely round Santa who glistened with cheer!
(Though the inmates of Arkham were naughty, not nice
Though they castrated virtue and snuggled with vice
Santa had come to the villains in chains
Despite the insanity there in their brains.)
So Jonathan Crane watched with widening eyes
As Santa snuck in 'neath a clever disguise
And now he stood beaming by Jonathan's bed
Chortling and chuckling and here's what he said:
"Oh Jonny, you've been such a bad boy this year
You've taught the whole city the meaning of fear
You've stolen and murdered and led lives astray
You've lied and turned folks into people flambé
But still, I am here just to give you a gift.
What do you desire? What makes your heart lift?"
Jonathan stared at the corpulent man.
He had to be dreaming. When this night began
He'd been drugged up and doped down and tied into bed.
Who wouldn't see Santa on this many meds?
And things of this kind were like figments of fright
(The ones that he summoned with toxins at night)
And surely the specter would vanish by dawn.
So Scarecrow ignored him until he said "Jon-
I won't go away till you say what you need.
Any wish works and don't worry of greed."
The Scarecrow decided to talk to the thing
(After all, hadn't madness made fools into kings?)
And so he said "Santa, I know you're not there.
When I was a boy you were nothing but air.
To think you ignored me back when I was good
And now turn up smiling in this neighborhood?
If it's gifts that you're giving, I'll ask you to leave.
It's better to give than it is to receive
And I'd love nothing more than to give you a smack.
But in this straitjacket, it's arms that I lack
So get out of my cell and get out of this place
And stop looking at me or I'll gas your fat face!"
Kris Kringle was stunned by the Scarecrow's attack.
Could Jonathan's heart be a grinchy coal black?
His world had been naughty and never too nice.
Was it any surprise that his soul was of ice?
With a sigh, Santa gave him a gift he'd adore
As he hurried and scurried away 'cross the floor.
It wouldn't be much, but it might make him smile
(God knows that he hadn't in such a long while!)
So in the dark night, the Scarecrow had dreams
Of terror and wonderful, horrified screams
Santa had given him daydreams of dread
And visions of phobias danced through his head
While up atop Arkham, Claus shrugged to the night.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good fright!
Author's Note: This is what happens when I wake up from nightmares. Yay. And now that I've got this out of my head, hopefully I can get back to sleep! (And now that I'm awake, I edited it a little bit to make it clear what Jonnyboy got from St. Nick.)