An Auto-Erotic Fantasy

(With special thanks to Maf for getting my dirty mind in gear)


"I don't believe in Santa Claus
"Kris Kringle or St Nick,
"Or even Father Christmas,"
Said Doyle, "I'm not that thick!"

The Christmas Man was angry,
On Christmas Eve said he:
"I've trapped yon 4.5's spirit
"Inside his gold Capri.

"To free him from this magic
"Needs resolution strong:
"Someone must open up his door
"And drive him all night long."

"Oh very well," quoth Cowley,
But Doyle honked plaintively:
"There's only one I'll let inside
"And you, mate, are not he."

"I'll try," said valiant Doctor Ross,
"I'm from the Fen Country."
"I'd rather be a pillowed frog,"
Protested Raymond D.

"I've always fancied 4-dot-5,"
Said multi-numbered Murph.
"As 2-dot-9 or 6-dot-2
"It's time to claim to my turf."

"Oh, you are tall and dark," honked Doyle,
"And sport a good chimney,
"But I desire my clutch engaged
"With blue-eyed modesty."

"Och, not my bonnie Bodie!"
Poor Cowley tore his hair.
"I've courted him for many a month,
"And think I'm nearly there!"

"What, womanizing Bodie?"
Kate gave a mighty start.
"I thought I'd anyalysed his brain
"And hoped to win his heart."

"Oh, sod it all," said Murphy,
"I fancied Bodie too.
"I'd like to have them both at once
"But George and Kate will do."

Then up stepped Agent Bodie
And stroked the Capri's boot,
Caressed the doors and bonnet which
Drew forth a tender toot.

"Although you've often had my bum,"
Did Bodie softly chide,
"You've always been too hesitant
"To welcome me inside.

"I've often stroked your curly locks,"
He added wistfully,
"But I am loth to force your doors
"If you reluctant be."

Up sprang the bonnet, opened wide,
The doors and boot flapped free,
"When better than on Christmas Eve
"To yield virginity?

"Oh fill me up with petrol,
"With dipstick check my oil,
"And from this day there's naught withheld
"By me, your loving Doyle."

The sun rose Christmas morning,
And Doyle restored was he;
"Next year I'll hang a stocking up,"
He promised gratefully.

And weary with their restless night,
They tumbled into bed,
"Merry Christmas!" yawned, and kissed,
Then to the world were dead.

So warning take, my list-sibs dear,
Discretion, you will see,
Pays off before you stop to cry:
"Oh Bah! Humbuggery!"

December 15, 1999