My daughter is out of the country this Xmas and we miss each other a lot. I wrote a poem to cheer her up. I thought I would share it with you, as well.
It’s not entirely original, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t violate any copyrights. Enjoy!
The Knight Who Bore Xmas
(a cautionary tale)
By Rich Mann
‘Twas the night before Xmas, and all through the castle
Not a creature was stirring. Who needed the hassle?
The barbed wire was strung ‘cross the chimney with care,
For fear that Old Satan Claws soon would be there.
The children were cowering under their beds,
While nightmares of cluster-bombs pranced in their heads.
And my wife with her Uzi, and I with my Colts,
Had just locked ev’ry ingress and slid home their bolts.
When the courtyard’s proximity sensors all blared,
I wasn‘t too worried - this year we‘d prepared.
Away to the security monitors I flew,
I pulled up the cameras (and the sound, which was new).
The floodlights all shining on new-fallen snow
Gave the bright glare of noon-time to objects below.
When, what to my terrified eyes should appear,
But a heav’ly armed sleigh with robotic reindeer.
With a phantasmic driver, so stealthy and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Old Nick.
More rapid than Blackhawks his reindeer they came,
And he snarled, and he shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Slasher! now, Lancer! now, Cancer and Psy-ops!
On, Vomit! On, Stupid! on Monster and Cyclops!
To the top of the battlements, the top of the Keep!
Now gnash away! Bash away! Slash them all deep!”
Like sandstorms that before the wild Scirocco fall,
When they contact obstacles, destroy them all.
So up to the belfry the reindeer they flew,
With the sleigh full of arms, and Old Satan Claws, too.
And then, to my horror, I heard on the roof
The scratching and sawing of each evil hoof.
As I drew out my guns, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Old Satan Claws came with a bound.
He was dressed all in body armor, covered in mud,
And his camos were stained all with ashes and blood.
A bunch of grenades he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a sniper, beginning attack.
His eyes-how they squinted! his grimace how scary!
His cheeks were so hollow, his nostrils so hairy!
His drool-spilling mouth was drawn up in a rictus,
And his beard was all full of the evidence of sickness.
The stump of a finger he held in his teeth,
And intestines encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a gray face, and dead eyes like a shark,
That gleamed as he laughed, with a bland, evil spark!
He was skinny and gaunt, like an evil old elf,
And I screamed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A slick wink of his eye and the most twisted leer,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to fear.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And set fire to our presents, the sick little jerk!
And sticking his finger inside of his nose,
And blowing some snot, up the chimney he rose!
He slinked to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all soared like a heat-guided missile.
But I heard him threaten, as he screamed out of sight,
“Scary Xmas to all, and to all a good fright!”