Santa's Naughty Batch - A cookie taste yule never forget

’Twas the night before Christmas, when deep in the lair,
Not a creature was stirring—except one with flair.
Old Santa was baking, but something went wrong,
His cookies turned wicked, his morals long gone.

He stirred in sweet sugar, a hint of pure sin,
With whispers of vanilla that curled from within.
The elves all grew silent, the reindeer took flight,
For Santa was laughing—through most of the night.

"They’ve been far too good, they’ve had far too much cheer,"
He grinned as he poured in a splash of dark fear.
So he roasted a brew, both sinful and grand,
A royal delight from his unholy hand.

Now those who sip deeply will soon come to see,
This isn’t your grandma’s sweet cookie and tea.
For lurking within each delicious pour,
Is Santa himself—craving just one sip more.

So beware, my dear mortal, when Christmas bells chime,
For Santa’s Naughty Batch is anything but sublime.
It’s sweet, it’s sinful, it’s brewed to enchant—
A royal sugar cookie indulgence you shouldn’t… but can’t.