The Hipster's Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
No one was stirring, except for old Klaus,
Who wasn’t as old as he first appeared.
It’s just that he wore a bushy Civil War-era beard.

The stockings -- knit with wool from free-range, grass-fed sheep --
Were hung by the chimney cleaned by a local, fair trade chimney sweep,
Next to natural soy wax, sea moss-scented candles, 
By the fire of reclaimed wood cut with an axe with an old growth Douglas Fir handle.

The kids – Piper and Bowie – nestled in their futons ‘neath old vintage sheets,
With Urban Outfitters tube socks covering their feet.
And Mama in her Christmas sweater, which was ironically ugly,
Waited for the professional cuddler to come over and hug her so snugly.

‘Cause Klaus was busy blogging about organic vegan soup,
While sipping egg nog in a mason jar (made from free range eggs from   backyard chicken coop).
When out in the street there arose such a melee,
Klaus leapt from his chair, dropping his ukulele.

Away to the window he flew, quite dismayed,
And snapped up the vintage yellow window shade.
“OMG! It looks like an elf or some giant pixie
Just crashed his hybrid sleigh right into my fixie!”

Then from the fireplace came a sudden whooshing sound,
And down the chimney Hipster Santa came tumbling down.
He had pasty white skin, and a beard white as snow,
And a red fedora, perched atop his head just so. 

A pair of black-frame glasses sat high on his nose,
And he wore red skinny jeans that fit like panty hose.
On his neck was an artisanal star tattoo,
And he wore a cardigan from American Apparel, or possibly J. Crew. 

Said Klaus: “But where are your reindeer? Have they all gone lame?”
Hipster Santa just shrugged. “They were harming the planet with all their methane.
Dude, I’d love to stay and talk about fighting The Man,
But I’ve got to review the snack you left me: gluten-free macaroons and PBR in a can.”

“Here,” he said, handing Klaus a gift from his messenger bag.
“You were naughty this year, so your gift is a drag.
No ironic t-shirt, no thrift-store deep-v.
Instead -- ‘cause coal’s bad for the planet -- you get a Nickelback cd.”

And then, with a whoosh, Hipster Santa was gone,
Back up the chimney, and out onto the lawn.
But I heard him exclaim, as he started his sleigh,
“Merry Christmas to all, in an ironic way.”