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'Twas the night before Christmas, and what did we see?
Helen and Madeline, fighting near the tree.
"Your face looks cracked!" Mad snidely said,
"At least I can walk," Helen clapped back instead.
Snarky Christmas, forever divine,
Who needs a soul when you've got a good line?
Our bodies might crumble, but our shade's on point,
We'll sass through the season with wine to anoint.
Bruce is in the corner, rolling his eyes,
Sick of two women who just won't die.
"Your dress is so last season," Helen snorts,
Madeline replies, "At least mine still supports!"
Snarky Christmas, immortal and chic,
We'll roast you so hard, you'll age in a week.
We've got no wrinkles, but plenty of bite,
A holiday season of petty delight.
The champagne flows, but the vibes are tense,
The compliments fly, but they're all backhanded pretense.
Helen decorates with venomous glee,
Mad says, "This mistletoe's dead, much like your esprit."
Snarky Christmas, with sarcasm to spare,
We'll sling shady zingers while fixing our hair.
Our bones may creak, but our wit's still spry,
Immortally snide, 'til the end of the sky.
So here's to the season with venomous flair,
Where insults are gifts we're happy to share.
Helen and Madeline, ageless and sly,
A Christmas of sass that will never die.