xenith | Entries tagged with the night before christmas

Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was hurtin', even the mouse.
The toys were all broken, their batteries dead;
Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.

Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor, while
Upstairs the family continued to snore.
And I in my T-shirt, new Reeboks and jeans,
I went into the kitchen and started to clean.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little white truck, with an oversized mirror.

The driver was smiling, so lively and grand;
The patch on his jacket said "U.S. POSTMAN."
With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox
Then quickly he stuffed them into our mailbox.
Bill after bill, after bill, they still came.
Whistling and shouting he called them by name:

"Now Dillard's, now Broadway's, now Penny's and Sears
Here's Robinson's, Levitz's and Target and Mervyn's.
To the tip of your limit, every store, every mall,
Now charge away--charge away--charge away all!"
He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work.
He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk.
He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road,
Driving much faster with just half a load.

Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer,
"Enjoy what you got. . . . . .you'll be paying all year!"

'Twas the night before Christmas -- the very last one --
when the blazing of lasers destroyed all our fun.

Just as Santa had lifted off, driving his sleigh,
A satelite spotted him making his way.

The Star Wars Defense System -- Reagan's desire
Was ready for action, and started to fire!

The laser beams criss-crossed and lit up the sky
Like a fireworks show on the Fourth of July.

I'd just finished wrapping the last of the toys
When out of my chimmney there came a great noise.

I looked to the fireplace, hoping to see
St. Nick bringing presents for Missus and me.

But what I saw next was disturbing and shocking;
A flaming red jacket setting fire to my stocking!

Charred reindeer remains and a melted sleigh-bell;
Outside burning toys like confetti they fell.

So now you know, children, why Christmas is gone:
The Star Wars computer had got something wrong.

Only programmed for battle, it hadn't a heart;
'Twas hardly a chance it would work from the start.

It couldn't be tested, and no one could tell,
If the crazy contraption would work very well.

So after a trillion or two had been spent
The system thought Santa a Red missile sent.

So kids dry your tears now, and get off to bed,
There won't be a Christmas -- since Santa is dead.

From

buffysquirrel

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a tech-toy was stirring, not even the mouse.
The Flash drives were hung by the server with care
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would shareware.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of MySpace compiled in their heads.
And mamma in her headphones and my iPod and I
Had just downloaded roxxor tunes thro' the WiFi

When outside, yes outside, there rose such a clatter,
I hibernated the laptop to see what was the matter.
Behind last year's monitor, I found it-the door
Then opened it twenty pico-metres; no more.

The moon on surfaces reformatted with snow
Gave a halogen's lustre to what was on show
When, what to my short-sighted eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh, and eight virtual e-deer.

With a little old driver, and ten cans of Coke
Either it was St Nick, or some holiday joke.
More hyper than sugarbabes his e-deeries came
And he promoted, and smirked, and called them by name!

"Now Cherry! now, Diet and No-Cal! now, Lemon!
On, Caffeine-Free! On, C2! Splenda and Zero, on!
To the schools, to the canteens, to everywhere!
Now sell away! Sell away! Sell away there!"

As customers that before tainted product fly
Back to Evian and Perriere, bye bye blue sky.
So up to the sat'lite dish the e-deeries flew
With the sleigh full of Coke, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The snap of crackers hoping the Wi-Fi would goof.
As I bolted my door, and was turning around,
Out of the desktop St Nick came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
With last year's "Fur is Dead" sticker still on his boot.
A bundle of Games he had flung on his back,
With add-ons, and gadgets, and the odd expansion pack.

His eyes-how they blink-tagged! his dimples how twee!
His cheeks were CC0 000, his nose FF3 333!
His droll little mouth was drawn up round no teeth,
And the beard of his chin was all stained brown--good grief!

The stump of a pipe he hid behind his back
And his pocket half-concealed a cigarette pack.
He had a broad face, and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like CPR jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right unfit old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, so much like myself!
A chug of his aspirin and angina pills
Soon gave me the Chrismas over-indulgence chills.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Installed Parental Protection, and SpyWare, and Quark.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the Wi-Fi he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a dog with the gristle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Don't forget to use eBay, for gifts that weren't right!"

Twas the night before Christmas and one thing was clear--
that old Yuletide spirit no longer was here
inflation was rising; the crime rate was tripling;
the fuel bills were up, and our mortgage was crippling;

I opened a beer as I watched TV,
where Donny sang "O Holy Night" to Marie;
the kids were in bed, getting sleep like they should;
or else they were stoned, which was almost as good.

While Ma with her ball-point was making a fuss
'bout folks we'd send cards to who'd sent none to us;
"Those ingrates," she thundered, and pounded her fist;
"Next year you can bet they'll be crossed off our list!"

When out in the yard came a deafening blare;
'twas our burglar alarm, and I hollered, "Who's there?"
I turned on the searchlight, which lit up the night,
and, armed with my handgun, beheld a strange sight.

Some red-suited clown with a white beard immense
was caught in our eight foot electrified fence;
he called out, "I'm Santa! I bring you no malice!"
Said I, "if you're Santa, I'm Telly Savalas!"

But, lo, as his presence grew clear to me,
I saw in the glare that it just might be he!
called off our doberman clawing his sleigh
and, frisking him twice, said, "I think he's ok."

I led him inside where he slumped in a chair,
and he poured out the following tale of despair;
"On Christmas eves past I was jolly and chuckling,
but now 'neath the pressures, I fear I am buckling."

"You'll note I've arrived with no reindeer this year,
and without them, my sleigh is much harder to steer;
although I would like to continue to use them,
the wildlife officials believe I abuse them."

"To add to my problem, Ralph Nader dropped by
and told me my sleigh was unsafe in the sky;
I now must wear seatbelts, despite my objections,
and bring in the sleigh twice a year for inspections."

"Last April my workers came forth with demands,
and I soon had a general strike on my hands;
I couldn't afford to pay unionised elves,
so the misses and I did the work ourselves."

"And then, later on, came additional trouble--
an avalanche left my fine workshop in rubble;
my Allstate insurance was worthless, because
they had shrewdly slipped in a 'no avalanche' clause."

"And after that came an I.R.S audit;
the government claimed I was out to defraud it;
they finally nailed me for 65 grand,
which I paid through the sale of my house and my land."

"And yet I persist, though it gives me a scare
flying blind through the blanket of smog in the air;
not to mention the hunters who fill me with dread,
taking shots at my sleigh as I pass overhead."

"My torn-up red suit, and these bruises and swellings,
I got fighting muggers in multiple dwellings.
And if you should ask why I'm glowing tonight,
it's from flying too close to a nuclear site."

He rose from his chair and he heaved a great sigh,
and I couldn't help notice a tear in his eye;
"I've tried," he declared, "to reverse each defeat,
but I fear that today I've become obsolete."

He slumped out the door and returned to his sleigh,
and these last words he spoke as he went on his way;
"no longer can I do the job that's required;
if anyone asks, just say, 'Santa's retired!'".

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves."
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the North Pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with four pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard roof noises up on their roof-tops.
Smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur-trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf would sue o'er the use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Asking millions of dollars in due compensation.

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd had enough of this life,
Joined a self-helping group, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause such commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim and nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls, or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike and so, non-pacific.

No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales too, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie...(just better off hidden.)
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who said the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, not football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to the dirt.
Dolls were too sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo, 'twas found, rots your brain cells away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just couldn't figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
(But you've got to be careful with that word today.)
His sack was quite empty, lay limp on the ground;
No suitable gift for this year could be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people and every religion;
Every ethnicity, each color and hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even to you.

So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth."

57 ELM STREET BETHLEHEM, PA. 11:51 P.M., DECEMBER 24TH

Mulder: We're too late! It's already been here.

Scully: Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing.

Mulder: Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care.

Scully: You really think someone's been here?

Mulder: Someone ... or something.

Scully: Mulder, over here-it's a fruitcake.

Mulder: Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal.

Scully: It's O.K. There's a note attached: "Gonna find out who's naughty and nice."

Mulder: It's judging them, Scully. It's making a list.

Scully: Who? What are you talking about?

Mulder: Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite.

Scully: But that's legend, Mulder-a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely you don't believe it?

Mulder: Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive-and in a hurry.

Scully: It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been completely drained.

Mulder: It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse.

Scully: But why would they leave it milk and cookies?

Mulder: Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.

Scully: But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry.

Mulder: Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.

Scully: Wait a minute, Mulder. If you're saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing could get down there.

Mulder: But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at once?

Scully: You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?

Mulder: Exactly. Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white shanks of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I'll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father.

Scully: Impossible.

Mulder: I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. It knew that I wanted a Mr. Potato Head!

Scully: I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you're saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out, they'll close the X-files.

Mulder: Scully, listen to me: It knows when you're sleeping. It knows when you're awake.

Scully: But we have no proof.

Mulder: Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a Condition Red.

Scully: But that was a meteor shower.

Mulder: Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C. Nobody-not even the zookeeper-was told about it. The government doesn't want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist the public will stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully, they cannot let the world believe this creature lives. There's too much at stake. They'll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night.

Scully: Mulder, I-

Mulder: Sh-h-h. Do you hear what I hear?

Scully: On the roof. It sounds like ... a clatter.

Mulder: The truth is up there. Let's see what's the matter.

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the charts
The lines that were empty would sure break your heart.
The pedigree chart was laid out with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas would know who or where.
As searcher I nestled all snug in my bed
While visions of ancestors danced through my head.

Others sound asleep both upstairs and down
All in a nightcap and ankle length gown.
when out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I jumped from my bed to see what was the matter.
When much to my wonderment there did appear
Good old St Nicholas with a grin to each ear.

His bulk was tremendous, his eyes full of glee
He laughed as he picked up the sad pedigree.
He shouted and roared and ripped it to bits
While I swallowed my heart and went into fits.
'Dash it all, dash it all,' I heard him then say,
'This clutter and mess is just in my way.'

He said not a word as he started his job
He sat down at once and his pencil did jog.
A new pedigree he filled out in two winks
Giving names, dates, and places and all missing links.
Clear back to Adam, and down to the last...
For ageless was he, having served in the past.

I thought, 'Oh, how wonderful it would all be
If he did for others what he did for me.
As he finished and blotted the ink not quite dry
A sadness came over me and then I did cry
He gave me the details and seemed to have such fun
But now all my ancestor chasing was done.

He bounced out the window and I heard him say,
'For others I'll do the same any old day,
Just tell them my number and be good and kind,'
But then, a sure thought came into my mind...
Nobody wants ancestors that fast and so good
I'll let everyone else do the job just as they should.

(by Dora Mills - Ash Tree Echo Jan 1983)

`Twas a week before Christmas and all through the town,
Came echoing cries of "The Best Deal Around!"
But the seasonal joy was marred by the sight,
Of fast-dealing swindlers - a perennial blight.

The stocking to be hung by the chimney with care,
Would likely be filled with questionable ware.
As Ma in her kerchief and Pa in his cap,
Were busily searching for bargains to wrap.

When all of a sudden there arose such a clatter,
To the TV they ran to see what was the matter.
A sincere (?) announcer so earnest (on cue),
Did his best to convince them what he said was so true.

More rapid than eagles his adjectives came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name-
"Now ladies, now gentleman, now children and all,
Our offers are super, here's the number to call.

"The buy of your life, there's nothing so fine,
As five rooms of furniture for two-ninety-nine."
And at that same moment there appeared at their door,
A glib talking salesman with values galore.

A bundle of bargains he had in his car.
Goodies and gadgets priced way below par.
Imported woolens for a handsome new suit,
Encyclopedias and steaks knives to boot.

While they stood there transfixed, he spieled on and on,
The latest edition was tossed on the lawn.
And the bargains they saw made their temperatures rise,
"What wonderful values! What fabulous buys!"

Imported perfume at $2 a quart,
Mink coats at discount (if you don't care what sort).
And just look at this, "ere your money is spent,
Our toys are reduced a full 50 percent."

Brand name appliances with prices to cheer,
(Except they don't say they're left over from last year.)
Furniture marked up so the price can come down,
To make it appear the best deal in town.

And diamonds so cheap that even a sailor,
Can deck out his gal like Elizabeth Taylor.
"We'll save lots of cash," they exclaimed with delight.
"Let's buy all our presents on this very night."

As they reached for their purses and were turning around,
Down the chimney came Sanity Clause with a bound.
The look in his eye and his cautioning hand,
Made them stop in their tracks as if by command.

"Do not be deluded," old Sanity said.
"By the advertised claims that you just heard and read.
"Outfits who use this high discount appeal,
will promise you anything to make a fast deal.

"Complete satisfaction after you buy
is quite unimportant to this sort of guy."
He looked at them shrewdly and said, not in jest,
"Always investigate - before you invest.

"There are plenty of good honest merchants you'll find,
If you peel off the promises and look what's behind.
"These good folks are just as concerned as you are,
To stretch out your dollars and make them go far.

"Don't try to get something for nothing," he said.
"You'll wind up with nothing for plenty instead."
With this warning he left and he hopped in his sleigh,
To his team gave a whistle and they scampered away.
But they heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,

"Merry Christmas to all - who do business right!"

Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house
I searched for the tools to hand to my spouse
Instructions were studied and we were inspired,
in hopes we could manage "Some Assembly Required."

The children were quiet (not asleep) in their beds,
while Dad and I faced the evening with dread:
a kitchen, two bikes, Barbie's town house to boot!
And, thanks to Grandpa, a train with a toot!

We opened the boxes, my heart skipped a beat-
let no parts be missing or parts incomplete!
Too late for last-minute returns or replacement;
if we can't get it right, it goes in the basement!
When what to my worrying eyes should appear
but 50 sheets of directions, concise, but not clear,
with each part numbered and every slot named,
so if we failed, only we could be blamed.
More rapid than eagles the parts then fell out,
all over the carpet they were scattered about.
"Now bolt it! Now twist it! Attach it right there!
Slide on the seats, and staple the stair!
Hammer the shelves, and nail to the stand."
"Honey," said hubby, "you just glued my hand."
And then in a twinkling, I knew for a fact
that all the toy dealers had indeed made a pact
to keep parents busy all Christmas Eve night
with "assembly required" till morning's first light.
We spoke not a word, but kept bent at our work,
till our eyes, they went bleary; our fingers all hurt.
The coffee went cold and the night, it wore thin
before we attached the last rod and last pin.
Then laying the tools away in the chest,
we fell into bed for a well-deserved rest.
But I said to my husband just before I passed out,
"This will be the best Christmas, without any doubt.
Tomorrow we'll cheer, let the holiday ring,
and not have to run to the store for a thing!
We did it! We did it! The toys are all set
for the perfect, most perfect, Christmas, I bet!"
Then off to dreamland and sweet repose
I gratefully went, though I suppose
there's something to say for those self-deluded-
I'd forgotten that BATTERIES are never included!

'Twas the night before Chanukah, boichiks and maidels
Not a sound could be heard, not even the dreidels
The menorah was set by the chimney alight
In the kitchen, the Bubbie was hopping a bite
Salami, Pastrami, a glaisele tay
And zoyere pickles mit bagels-- Oy vay!

Gezint and geschmock the kinderlach felt
While dreaming of taiglach and Chanukah gelt
The alarm clock was sitting, a kloppin' and tickin'
And Bubbie was carving a shtickele chicken
A tummel arose, like the wildest k'duchas
Santa had fallen right on his tuchas!

I put on my slippers, ains, tzvay, drei
While Bubbie was eating herring on rye
I grabbed for my bathrobe and buttoned my gottkes
And Bubbie was just devouring the latkes
To the window I ran, and to my surprise
A little red yarmulka greeted my eyes.

When he got to the door and saw the menorah
"Yiddishe kinder," he cried, "Kenahorah!"
I thought I was in a Goyishe hoise!
As long as I'm here, I'll leave a few toys."
"Come into the kitchen, I'll get you a dish
Mit a gupel, a leffel, and a shtickele fish."

With smacks of delight he started his fressen
Chopped liver, knaidlach, and kreplach gegessen
Along with his meal he had a few schnapps
When it came to eating, this boy sure was tops
He asked for some knishes with pepper and salt
But they were so hot he yelled out "Gevalt!"

He loosened his hoysen and ran from the tish
"Your koshereh meals are simply delish!"
As he went through the door he said "See y'all later
I'll be back next Pesach in time for the seder!"
So, hutzmir and zeitzmir and "Bleibtz mir gezint"
he called out cheerily into the wind.

More rapid than eagles, his prancers they came
As he whistled and shouted and called them by name
"Come, Izzie, now Moishe, now Yossel and Sammy!
On Oyving, and Maxie, and Hymie and Manny!"
He gave a geshrai, as he drove out of sight
"A gut yontiff to all, and to all a good night!"

The Night Before Christmas, Legally Speaking

Whereas, on or about the night prior to Christmas, there did occur at a certain improved piece of real property (hereinafter "the House") a general lack of stirring by all creatures therein, including, but not limited to a mouse.

A variety of foot apparel, e.g. stocking, socks, etc., had been affixed by and around the chimney in said House in the hope and/or belief that St. Nick a/k/a/ St. Nicholas a/k/a/ Santa Claus (hereinafter "Claus") would arrive at sometime thereafter.

The minor residents, i.e. the children, of the aforementioned House, were located in their individual beds and were engaged in nocturnal hallucinations, i.e. dreams, wherein vision of confectionery treats, including, but not limited to, candies, nuts and/or sugar plums, did dance, cavort and otherwise appear in said dreams.

Whereupon the party of the first part (sometimes hereinafter referred to as "I"), being the joint-owner in fee simple of the House with the parts of the second part (hereinafter "Mamma"), and said Mamma had retired for a sustained period of sleep. (At such time, the parties were clad in various forms of headgear, e.g. kerchief and cap.).

Suddenly, and without prior notice or warning, there did occur upon the unimproved real property adjacent and appurtenant to said House, i.e. the lawn, a certain disruption of unknown nature, cause and/or circumstance. The party of the first part did immediately rush to a window in the House to investigate the cause of such disturbance.

At that time, the party of the first part did observe, with some degree of wonder and/or disbelief, a miniature sleigh (hereinafter the "Vehicle") being pulled and/or drawn very rapidly through the air by approximately eight (8) reindeer. The driver of the Vehicle appeared to be and in fact was, the previously referenced Claus.

Said Claus was providing specific direction, instruction and guidance to the approximately eight (8) reindeer and specifically identified the animal co-conspirators by name: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen (hereinafter the "Deer"). (Upon information and belief, it is further asserted that an additional co-conspirator named "Rudolph" may have been involved.).

The party of the first part witnessed Claus, the Vehicle and the Deer intentionally and willfully trespass upon the roofs of several residences located adjacent to and in the vicinity of the House, and noted that the Vehicle was heavily laden with packages, toys and other items of unknown origin or nature. Suddenly, without prior invitation or permission, either express or implied, the Vehicle arrived at the House, and Claus entered said House via the chimney.

Said Claus was clad in a red fur suit, which was partially covered with residue from the chimney, and he carried a large sack containing a portion of the aforementioned packages, toys, and other unknown items. He was smoking what appeared to be tobacco in a small pipe in blatant violation of local ordinances and health regulations.

Claus did not speak, but immediately began to fill the stocking of the minor children, which hung adjacent to the chimney, with toys and other small gifts. (Said items did not, however, constitute "gifts" to said minor pursuant to the applicable provisions of the U.S. Tax Code.) Upon completion of such task, Claus touched the side of his nose and flew, rose and/or ascended up the chimney of the House to the roof where the Vehicle and Deer waited and/or served as "lookouts."

Claus immediately departed for an unknown destination. However, prior to the departure of the Vehicle, Deer and Claus from said House, the party of the first part did hear Claus state and/or exclaim: "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!" Or words to that effect.

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Not a user was using ... not even a mouse;
The programs were hung from the bugs in their code,
In hopes that a guru would soon cure their woes;
The data were nestled all snug in their beds,
While versions of software danced in their heads;
The boss dimmed the lights as I locked up my desk,
A couple days off and a well-deserved rest;
Then all of a sudden there came such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the processor I flew like a flash,
What a terrible sound .. like a massive headcrash;
The lights they were blinking and beaming aglow,
The hardcopy printout said "Let service know!";
When what to my wandering eyes should appear,
On a silicon wafer ... a field engineer;
A little device driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Chip!
More rapid than Macro, his cursor insane,
He whistled and shouted like a video game.

Now, Pascal! Now, Basic!, Now, Fortran and Cobol!
On RPG! On PL/1, On Dibol and Snobol!

To the top of the registers, the bottom of core!
Run diagnostics and see what they store!
As memory leaves when electricity flies,
The 'Rep' cracked a smile and loosened his tie;
He was chubby and plump, said the place was a wreck,
And I laughed when I saw him (in spite of high tech).
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He was dressed from his head to his feet in a suit,
His briefcase was heavy with tools to re-boot.

With bundles of bits bulging out of his slacks,
He looked like a pro 'bout to fix a blown pack.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Reseated PC boards, then turned with a smirk;
Hit return with his finger and said "Here it goes,"
And giving a nod, into the CRT he dove.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere leaving the site,
"Restore the data, and all will be right!"

T'was the night before Christmas and all through the kitchen;
I was cooking and baking and moanin and bitchin.
I've been here for hours, I cant stop to rest.
This rooms a disaster, just look at this mess !

Tommorow I've got thirty people to feed.
They expect all the trimmings. Who cares what I need !
My feet are both blistered, I've got cramps in my legs.
The cat just knocked over a bowl full of eggs.

Theres a knock at the door and the telephones ringing;
Frosting drips on the counter as the microwaves dinging.
Two pies in the oven, desserts almost done;
My cookbook is soiled with butter and crumbs.

I've had alI I can stand, I cant take anymore;
Then in walks my husband, spilling rum on the floor.
He weaves and he wobbles, his balance unsteady;
Then grins as he chuckles "The eggnog is ready !"

He looks all around and with total regret,
Says "Whats taking so long....arent you through in here yet ??"
As quick as a flash I reach for a knife;
He loses an earlobe; I wanted his life !

He flees from the room in terror and pain
And screams "MY GOD WOMAN, YOU'RE GOING INSANE !!"
Now what was I doing, and what is that smell ?
Oh shit it's the pies !! They're burned all to hell !!

I hate to admit when I make a mistake,
But I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE.
What else can go wrong ?? Is there still more ahead ??
If this is good living, I'd rather be dead.

Lord, dont get me wrong, I love holidays;
It just leaves me exhausted, all shakey and dazed.
But I promise you one thing, If I live till next year,
You wont find me pulling my hair out in here.

I'll hire a maid, a cook, and a waiter;
And if that doesnt work, I'LL HAVE IT ALL CATERED !!!

Tonight's my first night as a watchdog,
And here it is Christmas Eve.
The children are sleepin' all cozy upstairs,
While I'm guardin' the stockin's and tree.

What's THAT now . . . footsteps on the rooftop?
Could it be a cat or a mouse?
Who's THIS down the chimney?
A thief with a beard - And a big sack for robbin' the house?

I'm barkin'..I'm growlin' . . . I'm bitin' his butt.
He howls and jumps back in his sleigh.
I scared his strange horses, they leap in the air.
I've frightened the whole bunch away.

Now the house is all peaceful and quiet again,
The stockin's are safe as can be.
Won't the kiddies be glad when they wake up tomorrow . . .
And see how I've guarded the tree.

'Twas The Night Before Christmas (as written by a technical writer for a firm that does government contracting)

'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.

His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about- face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed.

But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn."

Air Defences Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies,
Air defences were up, with electronic eyes.
Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds,
As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads.

Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube,
Was triply-redundant, linked to the Blue Cube,
And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so dense
That nothing that flew could slip through our defence.

When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter
I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter;
I increased the gain and then, quick as a flash,
Fine-adjusted the filters to damp out the hash.

And there found the source of the warning we'd heeded:
An incoming blip, by eight escorts preceded.
"Alert status red!" went the word down the wire,
As we gave every system the codes that meant "FIRE!"

On Aegis! Up Patriot, Phalanx and Hawk!
And scramble our fighters--let's send the whole flock!
Launch decoys and missiles! Use chaff by the yard!
Get the kitchen sink up! Call the National Guard!

They turned toward the target, moved toward it, converged.
Till the tracks on the radar all finally merged,
And the sky was lit up with a demonic light,
As the foe met his fate in the high arctic night.

So we sent out some recon to look for debris,
Yet all that they found, both on land and on sea
Were some toys, a red hat, a charred left leather boot,
Broken sleigh bells, white hair, and a deer's parachute.

Now it isn't quite Christmas, with Saint Nick shot down.
There are unhappy kids in each village and town.
For the Spirit of Christmas can't hope to evade
All the web of defences we've carefully made.

But a crash program's on: Working hard, night and day,
All the elves are constructing a radar-proof sleigh.
So let's wait for next Christmas, in cheer and in health,
For the future has hope: Santa's coming by stealth!

Twas the Night before Star Trek...

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the armoury securely,
In hope that no alien would get up that early.

The crewmen were nestled all snug in their bunks
(Except for the few who were partying drunks);
And Picard in his nightshirt, and Bev in her lace,
Had just settled down for a neat face to face...

When out in the hall there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pant and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the cars and yelled loudly "Deck One!"

The bridge red-alert lights, which flashed through the din,
Gave a lustre of Hades to objects within.
When, what on the viewscreen, our eyes should behold,
But a weird kind of sleigh, and some guy who looked old.

But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew,
That we knew in a moment it had to be Q.
His sleigh grew much larger as closer he came.
Then he zapped on the bridge and addressed us by name:

"It's Riker, It's Data, It's Worf and Jean-Luc!
It's Geordi, And Wesley, the genetic fluke!
To the top of the bridge, to the top of the hall!
Now float away! Float away! Float away all!"

As leaves in the autumn are whisked off the street,
So the floor of the bridge came away from our feet,
And up to the ceiling, our bodies they flew,
As the captain called out, "What the Hell is this, Q?!"

The prankster just laughed and expanded his grin,
And, snapping his fingers, he vanished again.
As we took in our plight, and were looking around,
The spell was removed, and we crashed to the ground.

Then Q, dressed in fur from his head to his toe,
Appeared once again, to continue the show.
"That's enough!" cried the captain, "You'll stop this at once!"
And Riker said, "Worf, take aim at this dunce!"

"I'm deeply offended, Jean-Luc" replied Q,
"I just wanted to celebrate Christmas with you."
As we scoffed at his words, he produced a large sack.
He dumped out the contents and took a step back.

"I've brought gifts," he said, "just to show I'm sincere.
There's something delightful for everyone here."
He sat on the floor, and dug into his pile,
And handed out gifts with his most charming smile:

"For Counsellor Troi, there's no need to explain.
Here's Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain.
For Worf I've some mints, as his breath's not too great,
And for Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date."

For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-plus;
For Data, a joke book, For Riker a truss.
For Beverly Crusher, there's sleek lingerie,
And for Jean-Luc, the thrill of just seeing her that way."

And he sprang to his feet with that grin on his face
And, clapping his hands, disappeared into space.
But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!"

'Twas the night before Solstice.
(A politically correct look at good old Christmas Eve)
By James Finn Garner

'Twas the night before solstice and all though the co-op
Not a creature was messing the calm status quo up.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
Dreaming of lentils and warm whole-grain breads.
We'd welcomed the winter that day after school
By dancing and drumming and burning the Yule,
A more meaningful gesture to honor the planet
Than buying more trinkets for Mum and Aunt Janet,
Or choosing a tree just to murder and stump it
And dress it all up like a seasonal strumpet.
My lifemate and I, having turned down the heat
Slipped under covers for a well-deserved sleep,
When from out on the lawn there came such a roar
I fell from my futon and rolled to the floor.
I crawled to the window and pulled back the latch,
And muttered, "Aw, where is that Neighborhood Watch?"
I saw there below through the murk of the night
A sleigh and eight reindeer of nonstandard height.
At the reins of that sleigh sat a mean-hearted knave
Who treated each deer like his personal slave.
I'd seen him before in some ads for car loans,
Plus fast food and soft drinks and cellular phones.
He must have cashed in from his mercantile chores,
Since self-satisfaction just oozed from his pores.
He called each by name, as if he were right
to treat them like humans, entrenching his might:
"Now Donder, now Blitzen", and other such aliases,
Showing his true Eurocentric biases.
With a snap of his fingers, away they all flew,
Like lumberjacks served up a plate of tofu.
Up to the rooftop they carried the sleigh
(The holes in the shingles are there to this day).
Out bounded the man, who went straight to the flue.
I knew in an instant just what I should do.

After donning my slippers, downstairs did I dash
To see this trespasser emerge from the ash.
His clothes were all covered with soot, but of course,
From our wood-fueled alternative energy source.
Through the grime I distinguished the make of his duds -
He was dressed all in fur, fairly dripping with blood.
"We're a cruelty-free house!" I proclaimed with such a heat
He was startled and tripped on the logs at his feet.
He stood back up dazed, but with mirth in his eyes.
It was then that I noticed his unhealthy size.
He was almost as wide as when standing erect,
A lover of fatty fried foods, I suspect.
But that wasn't all to make sane persons choke:
In his teeth sat a pipe that was belching out smoke!
I could scarcely believe what invaded our house.
This carcinogenic and overweight louse
Was so red in the face from his energy spent,
I expected a heart attack right there and then.
Behind him he toted a red velvet bag
Full to exploding with sinister swag.
He asked, "Where is your tree?" with a face somewhat long.
I said, "Out in the yard, which is where it belongs."
"But where will I put all the presents I've brought?"
I looked at him squarely and said, "Take the lot
"To some frivolous people who think that they need
To succumb to the sickness of commerce and greed,
"Whose only joy comes from the act of consuming.
Thus sending the stock of the retailers booming."
He blinked and said, "Ho, ho ,ho! But you're kidding."
I gave him a stare that was stern and forbidding.
"Surely children need something with which to have fun?
It's like childhood's over before it's begun."
He looked in my eyes for some sign of assent,
But I strengthened my will and refused to relent.
"They have plenty of fun," I cut to the gist,
"And your mindless distractions have never been missed.
"They take CPR so they can save lives,
And go door-to-door for the used clothing drives.
"They recycle, renew, reuse - and reveal
For saving the planet a laudable zeal.
"When they padlock themselves to a fence to protest
Against nuclear power, we think they're the best."
He said, "But they're children - lo, when do they play?"
I countered. "Is that why you've driven your sleigh,

"To bring joy to the hearts of each child and tot?
All right, open your bag; let's see what you've got."
He sheepishly did as I'd asked, and behold!
A Malibu Barbie in a skirt made of gold.
"You think my girls will like playing with this,
An icon of sexist, consumerist kitsch?
"With its unnatural figure and airheaded grin,
This trollop makes every girl yearn to be thin,
"And take up fad diets and binging and purging
Instead of respecting her own body's urging.
"To welcome the shape that her body has found.
And rejoice to be lanky, short, skinny or round."
Deep in his satchel he searched for a toy,
Saying, "This is a hit with most little boys."
And when did he put in my trembling hand
But a gun from the BrainBlasters Power Command!
"It's a hit, 'to be sure," I sneered in his face,
"And a plague to infect the whole human race."
"How 'bout grenades or some working bazookas
To turn all of our kids into half-wit palookas?"
I seized on his bag just to see for myself
The filth being spread by this odious elf.
An Easy-Bake Oven - ah, goodnes, what perfidy!
To hoodwink young girls into household captivity!
Plus an archery play set with shafts that fly out,
The very thing needed to put your eye out.
And toy metal tractors, steam shovels and cranes
For tearing down woodlands and scarring the plains,
Plus games like Monopoly, Pay Day, Tycoon,
As if lessons in greed can't start up too soon.
And even more weapons from BrainBlasters Co.,
Like cannons and nuchucks and ray guns that glow.
That's all I could find in his red velvet sack -
Perverseness and mayhem to set us all back.
(But I did find one book that caused me to ponder -
Some fine bedtime tales by a fellow name Garner.)
"We need none of this," I announced in a huff,
"No 'business-as-usual' holiday stuff.
"We sow in our offspring more virtue than this
Your 'boys' offer some things they will never miss."
The big man's expression was a trifle bereaved
As he shouldered his pack and got ready to leave.
"I pity the kids who grow up around here,
Who're never permitted to be of good cheer,

"Who aren't allowed leisure for leisure's own sake,
But must fret every minute - it makes my heart break!"
"Enough histrionics! Don't pity our kids
If they don't do as Macy's or Toys 'R' Us bids.
"They live by their principles first and foremost
And know what's important," to him did I boast.
"Pray, could I meet them?" "Oh no, they're not here.
"They're up on the roof, liberating your deer!"
Then Santa Claus sputtered and pointed his finger
But, mad as he was, he had no time to linger.
He flew up the chimney like smoke from fire.
And up on the roof I heard voices get higher.
I ran outside the co-op to see him react
To my children responsible, kindhearted act.
He chased them away, and disheartened, dismayed,
He rehitched his reindeer (who'd docilely stayed).
I watched with delight as he scooted off then.
He'd be too embarrassed to come back again.
But with parting disdain, do you know what I said,
When this overweight huckster took off in his sled?
This reindeer enslaver, this exploiter of elves?
"Happy Christmas to all, but get over yourselves!"

1995 James Finn Garner.

The Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the town,
the fire siren echoed blaring its sound.

The firefighters came running from far and from near,
and raced to the trucks quickly donning their gear.

And I in my bunkers my boots and my hat,
jumped to the engine to see where the fire's at.

Down at the corner of Fifth and of Oak,
the dispatcher informed us of a house filled with smoke.

Smoke poured from the sides, from up and from down,
yet up on the roof there was none to be found.

So up to the rooftop we raised up a ladder,
and climbed to the top to see what was the matter.

I came to the chimney and what did I see,
but a fellow in red stuck past his knees.

Well we tugged and we pulled until he came out,
then he winked with his eye and said with a shout.

"These darn newfangled chimneys they make them too small,
for a fellow as I, not skinny at all."

With a twitch of his nose he dashed to his sleigh,
and called to his reindeer, "AWAY now, AWAY."

As we rolled up our hoses he flew out of sight,
saying "God bless our firefighters" and to all a good night.

The Night before Catmas

Twas the night before Catmas
When all through the house
Not an animal was stirring,
Not even the mouse.

The kitties were snuggled
And tucked in their beds,
While visions of cat goodies
Danced in their heads.

Their stockings were hung
By the cat bowls with care,
In hope that Father Catmas
Soon would be there.

Out on the rooftop
There arose such a hissing,
I knew Father Catmas
Was having trouble parking.

I jumped on the couch,
Stuck my nose to the curtain.
"Here he is!", I purred
"It is him, I'm certain."

What to my deep blue eyes
Should appear,
But Father Catmas himself
In his Catsled gear.

He purred and he purredred,
But through the kitty door he went,
Then stopped and smelled the air
As he picked up a scent.

The cat cookies we left him
Were by the back door.
The kitties had baked them
Not an hour before.

He went about his work
With never a sigh,
Filling the stockings
With toys piled high.

He waved at me
With his mighty paw.
Although I was hiding,
'Twas my little nose he saw.

Out the kitty door he went
In oh such a rush,
Jumped on his catsled
And yelled out, "MUSH!"

The eight Maine Coon cat team
Were raring to go.
They hated 'stand stay',
Especially in the snow.

I could hear him hissing
As he disappeared that night,
"Merry Catmas to all!
OK team, turn rrrrright!"

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