First the old torturer, so lively and quick, Vice President Cheney dressed up as St Nick.

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Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the White House

Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse,

The stockings were hung up by the chimney with care,

And the shredders were humming in the chilly night air

Our spinners and fixers all snug in their beds

While visions of water boarding danced in their heads.

Now Laura in 'kerchief, and me in a nightcap,

Had settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Agents sprang from their bunks to see what was the matter.

Away to the window they flew with guns pointed,

Tore open the shutters and were not disappointed.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the luster of mid-day to a bloodbath below.

When, what to our wondering eyes did unfold,

A nativity play of events rarely told.

First the old torturer, so lively and quick,

Vice President Cheney dressed up as St Nick.

More rapid than eagles his helpers they came,

Carrying gags, hot pokers, sundry handtools of pain.

A replica dungeon sprang up on the grass,

Writhing with suspects, sticks up their ass.

Twas a moving rendition of the CIA's Mission

A sacred tableau: The American Inquisition!

Habeas corpus we burned at the stake,

Air strikes on Arabs are ducks on a plate.

Five million orphans adrift in Iraq

But the oil still flows, the plan is on track.

And then, in a twinkling, it was heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof,

As three men on camels leapt into the garden;

One was none other than Osama bin Laden.

"Welcome my brother" came Dick's merry greeting,

"I know we are soul mates and your visit is fleeting".

The pair danced a jig and bowed to the crowd

Sweet Laura asked, "Should this be allowed"?

Now Cheney is sweating from his head to his foot,

And his fat face is tarnished with ashes and soot.

Electrodes and thumb screws he's flung on his back,

And he looks like a psychopath, poised to attack.

But a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Assured all those present they had nothing to dread.

We've erased all evidence, he said with delight,

While our tortures continue, late into the night.

The stump of an infant he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

And I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Richard Neville

Authors Bio:
Richard Neville has been a practicing futurist since 1963, when he launched the countercultural magazine, Oz, which widened the boundaries of free speech on two continents. He has written several books, including Playpower (71), the bio of a global serial killer (79), his sixties memoir, Hippie Hippie Shake (95) and his latest handbook of social change, Footprints of the Future. A social commentator and a professional futurist with a sharp tongue, Richard is based in Australia, where he continues to stir the possum.
He co-founded a futurist oriented socio-political website: http://www.homepagedaily.com -which aims to be the first global student newspaper.