'Twas the night before Christmas in the burbs of L.A.,
And Jeffrey Pardo was plotting foul play.
For months he had planned an act violent and coarse,
After his wife Sylvia filed for divorce.
Jeff felt down and out ‘til he shouted with glee,
"Instead of gifts bodies shall lay under their tree!
“And after I make that bitch and her kin pay,
the newspaper headlines shall read Santa’s slay.’”
Before heading out Pardo snorted some coke,
to give him the courage to slaughter his folks.
Jeff drove to his in-laws’ to commit something sick,
armed with guns and flamethrower dressed as St. Nick.
In the town of Covina the Ortegas were hearty,
celebrating with friends at their Christmas Eve party.
When who should pull up and park near the garage?
None other than Santa in a rental blue Dodge.
Dressed in red and jolly with a beard like St. Peter,
Pardo left the car with his 9 millimeter.
A present in one hand his gun in the other,
he walked to the front door and then rang the buzzer.
An 8-year-old niece ran to answer the door,
and saw an image anyone would abhor.
For Santa held something that was quite out of place,
He steadied his handgun and aimed for her face.
From in the front hallway arose such a clatter,
and then the girl’s face was a gore-covered splatter.
The in-laws stood up from their poker and beer,
and took in a vision that filled them with fear.
In an instant the holiday merriment and fun,
turned into screams and cries of “Call 911!”
From beneath his fake beard Jeffrey did smile,
as he murdered the family execution style.
He downed Joseph downed Charles downed Mike and Alicia,
downed Sylvie downed Cheri downed James and Teresa.
And after he shot them in a manner quite swift,
Jeffrey Claus paused to open up his gift.
As the family lay dying their blood spilled all over,
Jeff reached in the box and pulled out his flamethrower.
The stockings were doused with the flammable gas,
and the house was ablaze with the flick of a match.
The neighbors were nestled all snug in their beds,
while flames leapt from a roof where reindeer dared not tread.
The fire burned bright with an unyielding fury,
and ashes veiled the ground just like winter-time flurries.
With third degree burns Pardo left in his car,
and drove to his brother’s house out in Sylmar.
Outside in the festive glow of yuletide lights,
Jeff set up an improvised explosive device.
When cops would find the car on that bright Christmas morning,
Pardo hoped that it would explode without warning.
He snuck into his brother’s house with a spare key,
and settled on the couch near the lit Christmas tree.
With his massacre over and his in-laws all dead,
Jeff fired one last fatal round through his head.
His brains on the ceiling his blood on the floor,
with a flash and a bang Jeff Pardo was no more.
Santa has no sympathy for this kind of soul;
Had he lived to the next day, Jeff would have got coal.