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.)