The night before Christmas- version for the unloved

It was the night before Christmas
And all through the home,
The ringing could be heard
Of the telephone.
Your parents must make plans,
For what they are to do.
Hopefully they'll find something
That gets them away from you.
Though you're too stupid to understand,
Your parents surely know-
You're a curse to them
And they wish you would go.
But as long as you're alive,
They have to let you stay.
Not because they want to,
They get more welfare that way.
Of course if you're nice next year,
That means less use of the mace.
And maybe they'll pick a daycare
Without rats to eat your face.
But it looks like this year,
You were not so good though.
So your parents gave us some info
We thought that you should know:
Santa isn't real.
If he were, he wouldn't come to your house.
Your real father
Isn't actually your mother's spouse.
This isn't a secret;
Your father knows it too,
And that's the exact reason
He doesn't love you.
But someone who does love you
Would be truly hard to find
For one very good reason:
You are not our kind.
You're a freak and unliked.
About you, nothing's good.
You're not the perfect child
Like you could be or should.
You should never talk;
Your voice sickens your whole class.
And your friends don't come over
Because you smell like an ass.
But you should know,
These really aren't friends at all.
And you should know,
They secretly laugh when you fall.
Yet who can help but laugh
At the stupid things you do?
It's not only your "friends,"
The cool kids hate you too.
Oh you pathetic little child,
We have you a way out.
You've better kill them all;
Slice them up without doubt.
They're obviously out to get you;
You've better get them first.
Everybody dies;
Make sure their pain's the worst.
Hurry up; it'll be great.
You'll get on the news.
You'll be popular and well known.
What a deal, you can't lose!
No one will ever
Laugh at your ignorance again.
Don't worry; you're under 10;
It's not a sin.
You "didn't know what you were doing."
You were "unaware."
Cry in front of the jury;
Show how much you care.
They will never convict you;
You are quite immune.
It is the perfect plan;
You've better do it soon.
Your parents will love you,
Though they never have before.
Maybe even that night
They'll let you in the kitchen door.
But don't eat Christmas dinner,
Oh you son or you daughter,
For your parents are only
Fattening you up for the slaughter.
Well, I'm very sorry,
But you just can't win.
The world's against you,
As it's always been.
I have one more thing to tell you
Before you go-
You'll be sent to the butcher shop,
As by now you must know.
And as your parents leave,
And you see them drive out of sight,
You'll hear them exclaim,
"the rump portion is the best bite!"