Saturday, December 24, 2022

A Tradition Like None Other: The Hanging of The Wreath of Khan on the Night Before Christmas


Doc here, a man who some say was once the centerfold in a 1977 Fingerhut holiday catalog, posing alongside a selection of colorful men's rompers.

It's Christmas Eve, and in a tradition longer than a lunchtime, the entire Lizardo family gathers to hang the Wreath of Khan on the front door of the home of The Journal of Adult Theaters, Lizardo Manor. 
Another tradition at Lizardo Manor is the reading of The Night Before Christmas, albeit it a slightly different form some may find upsetting or unnatural. 

Enjoy this adult theater skewed version of this holiday classic! 

'Twas the night before Christmas, across this thing of ours,
Not a creature was stirring, not even in a lifestyle club;
Fishnet stockings were hung by the Secret Room with care,
In hopes that Dr. Lizardo soon would be there;

The damsels were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of butt plugs danced in their heads;
And mamma in her corset, and I in my Yankees cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of a lady named Swallow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny dears,

With a little old doctor, so girthy, wearing a smock,
I knew in a moment it might be the Ol' Doc.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, MRS. HD! now, JEAN! now, GINGER and VIXX69!
On, BAD BARBI! on AMAZING LIZ! on, PIPER and GLORYHOLE NANCY
To the top of the porch! to the hole in the wall!
Now flash away! flash away! flash away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof some clues,
The prancing and pawing of sexy shoes.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the shaft Ol' Lizardo came with a bound.

He was dressed all in white, from his head to his shoes,
And his clothes were all tarnished with lipstick and a little ooze;
A bundle of sex toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a perv just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His butt cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His mustached lip was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

He was chesty and plump, possibly on the prowl,
And I laughed when I saw him, as he started to howl;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke only Italian, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the fishnet stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the shaft he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his girls gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!