A Visit from St. Away

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‘Twas the day before Christmas, and all round the flat,
Not a creature was present, not even the cat.
Most were out shopping, loading bags full of crap;
There was no time for lazing, nor having a nap.
The children were screaming, demanding more;
Their visions revolved around the toy store.
Mum’s purse was empty, Dad’s card was maxed out;
Shopping carnage? No, this was a full-blown rout.
Mum looked at her watch, and then threw a fit;
Hurry up, or else miss Wallace and Gromit!
The car slid and it skid, and oft refused to halt,
As Dad cursed the fresh snow and lack of road salt.
Angry and tired, they raced back to home,
But when they arrived, they were not alone.
Spying a stranger trying to open their door,
They crept up behind him, and smacked him to the floor!
“Break into our place? We’ll teach you to steal,
“Welcome to our fists, and mum’s pointy heel!
“Thieving at Christmas?! What incredible gall,
“Now bash away! Bash away! Bash away all!”
They rained down their blows with fearsome might.
The stranger lay prone, not offering a fight.
He whimpered and whined, then made no more sound;
Unconscious he lay, face down to the ground.
Mum called for the cops, on her mobile phone,
But she got no answer, just a busy tone.
They turned the stranger to face the streetlamp;
He was a clean-shaven lad, not a hairy old tramp.
In that yellowish pall, with the lad bruised and bloody,
They realized the blood matched the colour of his hoodie.
It was bitter outside, so they dragged him indoors,
No need for more violence, without due cause.
Mum fetched the mince pies, and made herself tea;
Dad opened a beer, and told the kids to play Wii.
Then Dad rummaged around the lad’s duffel bag;
Found it chock full of gifts, and each with a tag!
One was for mum; the kids both had two;
One was for dad; and for Tom: a cat chew.
Dad was amazed with what he did find.
Did the burglar intend to leave gifts behind?
The lad then awoke, cried and cringed back in fear,
“Please sir, I just want to get out of here…”
But Dad blocked his path, asked who the lad was.
“I’m a delivery boy, working for Santa Claus!
“With so much to distribute, the job is outsourced,
“We’re paid by the Chinese, but we’re Santa-endorsed!
“They call us St. Away, as St. Nick’s not here,
“He’s in too many places, at this time of year.”
Dad did not comprehend, what were the gifts for?
And why was this lad breaking in through the door?
“I was trying the door as you don’t have a chimney,
“Everyone’s getting gifts, except the Nobel Committee.
“It’s a scheme by the Chinese to boost their economy,
“And, to a lesser extent, aid international bonhomie.
“They make all the gifts I carry in these sacks,
“They’re worried their businesses might all collapse.
“If we don’t buy tat, then growth rates will fall,
“And that just won’t do, no, no, not at all!
“Better they give stuff away, than they just hoard it,
“Then we’ll all buy more, when we can afford it!”
Whilst Dad was bemused, the lad noticed his chance,
He dived out of the window, without second glance.
The lad flew down the street, as fast as he could,
He had no desire to make himself understood,
But he loudly exclaimed, as he ran round the bend –
“Enjoy your Christmas, and your crap without end!”