I Proudly Despise 10/31

It’s a freak show out there,
And no one needs to take part in it,
Once you put on the outfit,
You become the spirit,
They’re not cute,
They’re not a joke,
Long ago they were used,
To keep those spirits confused.

A disgusting debauchery,
So crazy so stupid,
And then Satan stabs you,
Like an arrow from cupid.

You hear “trick or treat”,
So you open your front door,
Congratulations,
Idiot,
You’ve actually opened a door,
To a spiritual war,
One you don’t believe in,
And so you have,
No chance to win.

Spells cast upon villages,
In Europe by druids,
FYI,
Your jack-o’-lanterns aren’t so stunning,
They were used back then,
To relay a message to demons,
To tell them whether to retaliate,
Or to keep on running.

The threat:
Sacrifice your child,
For their treat,
It’s the only way to avoid their trick,
On that night so wild.

This day and age,
We’re so naive,
We have fun,
Singing from a stage,
You’d never know it,
It’s not like we’re told this shit,
But in 1969,
In a hotel that seems fine,
Something terrible was born,
A doctrine that instructed the misled,
How to worship the one,
Whose head is depicted with horns.

Now it’s celebrated,
On a certain date,
The last day of October,
It’s nothing to most,
But nothing equals no knowledge,
Which in itself is a win,
For the side of darkness and sin.

And why would anyone,
Who’s a decent human,
Side with them,
Now they’re one more soul scored,
Instead of being a part,
Of the army of the Lord.

Made Possible By Snowmen

A Christmas wreath,
Flying through the air like a frisbee,
Grabbed by an unseen hand,
Settled on top of,
A pudgy snowman.

The snowman shook her head,
She was confused,
Feeling something around her head,
She reached up to unseat it,
But it had become fused.

Her head began to tingle,
Where the wreath sat,
And then the bells attached,
The wind made them start to jingle.

Every year,
The very same wreath,
Floats down from the air,
And picks out a snowman,
To help with Mrs. Santa’s Plan.

Someone at the North Pole needs a snowman,
One that isn’t made,
Of their magic snow,
So Mrs. Clause sends out this wreath,
To gather one that she can’t reach.

During Mr. Clause’s,
Christmas Eve run,
Mrs. Santa has things,
She needs to get done,
For something in particular,
She’ll need the help of this one.

You see snow from the outside,
Is the only thing,
That can make things go unseen,
And she wants to hide.

No!
It’s not like that!
She’s not doing anything shady,
But those elves are nosy,
And she wants time to herself,
For a cozy evening,
Like a regular old lady.

So up and away,
Flew the snowman,
And when she landed,
In that Far North Land,
She was greeted by the twin,
Of Santa’s famous deer Vixen.

“My Lord”!
She exclaimed,
Upon looking around,
“I’ve never seen,
So many like myself before”!

“Ah, but they’re not like you”,
Said the twin of Vixen,
“Ours are made with stuff magical,
And cannot do the job,
We’ve collected you to do”.

And so in the short time it took,
To deliver her,
To the Clause’s door,
He provided swiftly,
A brief North Pole history.

Mrs. Clause heard them coming,
And threw open the door,
Calling out a merry greeting,
Around the mouthful of Christmas cookie,
She was eating.

Now Vixen’s twin plodded off,
And the non-magical snowman,
Was left with just Mrs. Clause,
Who explained she needed a night to relax,
A total break,
From the whole Christmas act.

“The elves would take this as a sign,
Of great disrespect,
And my husband would worry,
I wasn’t taking our job seriously,
So year after year,
I bring one of you here,
For the snow you’re made of,
Gives off a poison shine,
And if elves look upon it,
Their eyes go temporarily blind”.

So the non-magical snowman,
Was asked by Mrs. Clause to guard,
Posted right at the property’s edge,
So the elves’ views of the place,
For the next twenty-four hours,
Would be barred.

All throughout the coming day,
That woman had a ball,
She had,
After all,
Waited a whole year,
For this day to fall.

Half was spent lazing about,
Watching un-Christmassy things on her telly,
Then she cooked and ate unhealthy cuisine,
Like sausages with sour kraut,
Before taking time out,
To read a book,
Instead of being,
The elves’ cook.

Peeking out her front window,
She saw the non-magical snowman,
Was still there keeping watch,
But the time was up,
On this trick,
She must get ready,
For the arrival of St. Nick.

It would be another year,
Before she would again be clear,
Of dear Mr. Clause,
And before he showed his face,
The evidence of what happens in his wake,
She must be sure to erase.

For of course Santa Himself,
Would be able to see through,
The non-magical snowman,
As he’s much more powerful than an elf.

Let me tell you gladly,
It does not end badly,
For those flown in to assist,
Mrs. Santa makes damn sure,
They are compensated for helping her,
She turns them magical,
Rather than returning them,
To where the first sign of warmth,
Would have them die a death most tragical.

Hey Little Kitty-Kats

In this classic case,
Of being in the wrong place,
At the wrong time,
They picked up their pace,
When the Strange One,
Opened up his jowls,
And let out a heinous howl.

Being so much smaller though,
The cats were too slow,
And the stray wolf,
In need of a pack,
Turned them,
And now there’s no turning back.

Basic house cats,
They were out on a stroll,
For some Halloween laughs,
And sad to say,
That was the last time,
They’d have a normal-cat day.

It was a fun time,
People watching,
And clawing jack-o’-lanterns,
Until they were unrecognizable,
Until a dog walked by,
Who was quite sizable.

Weird vibes emanated from him,
But they paid no mind,
Until it was too late,
Now running was out of the question,
They were out of time.

*************************

That was last year,
And now it’s been a whole ‘nother year,
Halloween,
Has come ’round again,
It’s been accepted all around,
Although it still feels foreign.

Now they’re wolves,
The Strange One,
Couldn’t find a pack,
His magical abilities,
Made others of his kind stay away,
As though he were overrun with fleas.

Due to lack of fans,
The Strange One took matters,
Into his own hands,
He made his own pack,
Out of house cats.

There’s no way out,
For him now,
Though he’s happy to have a pack,
There’s one thing that,
He cannot stand,
And this is when they meow.

All the other wolves,
Howl and bark,
Sometimes in the daylight,
But mostly when it’s dark,
His mostly talk,
When the sun is up,
And each time they meow,
He wishes they’d just shut up.

*************************

Strangely enough,
The pack is content,
You’d think they’d be upset,
But they’ve got a silver lining,
Because to them,
Their master is in debt,
They’re spoiled rotten,
And they’ll never let what he did to them,
Be forgotten.

How To Make Santa Angry

A polar bear,

Without a care,

Was skating mindlessly across the ice,

Thinking about a steaming bowl of something nice,

When down swooped a pigeon,

Who tried to get him to join up,

With some cultish religion.

He turned quickly around,

To get away,

From that awful sound,

And that’s when he heard,

The most welcome noise,

As it ran past him,

So swiftly it was blurred.

It was his good friend,

Elvis Elf,

The one he cared most for,

Besides himself,

And he was singing a version,

Of Jingle Bells,

That would have had Mr. Pigeon,

Saying he was doomed to the Hells.

“Peter White”,

Said Elvis,

When he was close enough to be heard,

“I dare you to help me make Old Santy mad,

Let’s make this song of mine,

A new North Pole Christmas fad”!

And there Elvis began to sing:

“Jingle Bells,

Mr. Santa’s balls smell,

And I wish he’d go away”……….

Laughing,

But at the same time horrified,

He agreed,

To cooperate,

I’ll make it known here,

That this polar bear,

Had a personality snare,

That prevented him,

From turning down a dare.

So the two put their heads together,

To plan what might be best,

As the elf had a vendetta,

With Mr. Santa,

To get off his chest,

And of course the bear,

Was excited to prove,

He was not too pussy,

To perform such a measly dare.

It took some doing,

But their brains finally did figure out,

A way to easily go about,

Making the wild tune,

Something all the North Pole’s peoples,

Would willingly shout.

Old Rudy was taken,

To a cabin long forsaken,

Peter stood watch,

To be sure he got,

The best possible care,

And to make sure,

If any others came by,

His roar would give them,

A gigantic scare.

Elvis distributed a bulletin,

With the lyrics of his shocking song,

And advising,

If they wanted their lead deer back,

They would have it learned,

By the time dawn cracks,

A fortnight from now,

And at the end was written a post script,

Warning if they breathed a word to the Head Man,

They risked being whipped.

It was a different sort of missive,

That got delivered,

To Old Santy and his wife,

It started out “Dear Sir and Ma’am”,

And ended with,

“If you’re not there,

It will cut through our hearts like a knife,

Love and kisses,

Signed,

Your Faithful Elves”.

All day every day rehearsals were held,

Meeting in little groups,

To keep the Boss from finding out,

Yes it would be a most unwelcome time,

For him to start nosing about.

With a foreboding feeling,

All learned each and every line,

And before they knew,

It was time to assemble,

In front of the grove of pines.

The morning of the singing,

Turned out bright and sunny,

And not knowing the truth,

Both Clause’s put on cheery finery,

So they would look their best,

When they went to see,

What pleasures were planned for them,

By these little darlings,

Who barely came up to their knees.

When they pulled up to the pine grove,

Things were very quiet,

So much so,

That against all the brightness and snow,

It seemed almost eerie.

There before them sat,

Rows and rows of elves,

Still and silent as the ones,

Who sit upon your shelves.

In just a moment,

Elvis stepped up to the sleigh,

“Now out you get you two,

And follow me this way”,

He said sans a greeting,

Then walked off towards the special seating.

Soon the Jolly Man and his woman,

Were settled in to watch,

“How blessed we are”,

Whispered He to Her,

But how fast this changed,

To “Let’s get ourselves the fuck out of here”!

When at Elvis’s urging,

All those threatened elves began to sing.

“Jingle Bells,

Mr. Santa’s balls smell,

And I wish he’d go away”……….

And then from around the corner,

Darted the red-nosed reindeer,

For whom during the past two weeks,

The Clause’s had lived in fear,

Of never seeing again,

And he proceeded to tell them all,

About the how’s and why’s,

Of his sudden kidnapping.

Meanwhile the song was coming to an end:

“Jingle all the way,

Oh it’s fun to take and hide,

The one who leads the Sleigh”……….

In Elvis’s eyes,

Things were at long last even,

Between him and the Big Man,

Tit for tat,

After last Christmas’s embarrassment,

He had finally taken a stand.

Oh though,

What an oops this was on his part!

To assume all would resume,

Business as usual,

After that knife he just purposely thrust,

Straight through Santa’s heart.

He thought himself high and mighty,

But Santa was just waiting,

For him to go night-nighty,

Then with a little Christmas Land Magic,

Elvis was modified,

Into a figure most tragic.

When he awoke,

A monster stared back from his mirror,

And as the day wore on,

The fact it was no joke,

Became increasingly clearer.

He was then banished,

To guard the North Pole’s secret entrance,

Their own abominable snowman,

Who walks with a limp,

And a candy cane club,

Being deemed unpardonable,

By both the Clause’s,

For certain there’s nothing,

That can cure this curse.

Bandit Broom’s Emergency, Halloween Season, Year 2020

I tumbled down from the sky,

Laughing and twirling,

And causing her skirts to go twirling.

Get fucked up things must,

And so of course,

Then came a great gust,

I felt her slip,

And then completely lose her grip.

Into a ditch below,

Is where she did go,

Now,

She being my witch,

I would have followed her there,

But the night was black as pitch,

And with the wind,

Pushing to and fro,

I was soon in despair.

By and by,

It will be Halloween,

And the veil between,

Grows thinner by the hour,

We must find,

That for whence we came,

Or we shall be devoured.

Eaten alive,

By The Dark Horned One,

Who cast the spell,

Because he wants my witch,

To be his bride in Hell.

It took me precious hours,

Sweeping the ground,

Using my bristles,

Like the nose of a hound,

But at last she’s been found.

Unconscious!

Losing her would make me nauseous,

So I must be cautious,

But let’s be honest,

Waking her too soon would seem monstrous,

Though if I wait,

The results could be disastrous.

Just thinking of her,

As the She-Devil,

Who resides with Lucifer,

In his lair downstairs,

Enraged me so,

That I saw stars,

So I did a little half-somersault,

And then stepped side to side,

So as my handle was tapping,

Into her hide.

With a few taps she awoke,

And urgently we spoke,

Hasty decisions must be made,

So we prayed,

We’d be unafraid,

To do whatever needs must,

That would cause the Head Demon’s plans to turn bust.

Motivation was strong,

We must prove him wrong,

It could and would be found,

The Purple Poison Spider,

For which we had set out after.

We made it through the veil but just barely,

Finally onto the side,

Where the spirits reside,

Now the real challenge begins,

We’ve got to grab the Spider,

And cross back over,

Then deliver it to Lucifer,

Or my witch’s life is as good as over.

I landed us swiftly,

And my witch jumped off easily,

I’d search high,

And she’d search low,

So I took to the sky,

While she hunted below.

It appears we were expected,

As even still,

It almost escaped us,

It snuck up behind her,

To go in for the kill,

But luck was on our side,

And I was able to land vertical,

Before it could hide.

I gave it a sweep,

Hard enough,

To push it away a few feet,

And hearing the commotion,

My witch turned around,

And lightning fast cast a charm,

Freezing it to the ground.

We had a quick consultation,

Would we make it back in time,

To cross back over without struggle?

Or would we encounter trouble?

It was iffy,

But with no other options,

We were off in a jiffy.

We had not quite an hour,

Before the veil would start to thicken,

And as the minutes ticked on by,

She kept toes and fingers crossed,

As her heartbeat began to quicken.

With just four minutes left to spare,

We made it out of there,

Then stopped to catch our breath,

And be certain that the Purple Poison Spider,

Was yet stuck for safekeeping in her hair.

Oh great relief!

The mission’s end was near,

All that was left,

Was the handoff to the Devil,

He’d get his much sought after Spider,

And I could keep Her.

Indeed!

He had a look of angry surprise,

When he saw our prize,

I’ll laugh over it forever,

He really thought he’d acquire my witch,

But you see,

She’s MY bitch,

And I’d undertake,

Another such endeavor,

To put His evil ass in its place,

And keep a smile on her face.

Reality

Here in the real world,

It’s too busy for Christmas,

Too busy for the Claus’s,

Mister and Missus.

Out here in the real world,

There’s money to make,

The world for us revolves around work,

And there’s no time to take,

Holiday breaks.

Here it is,

February now,

And I know it’s way past time,

But here in the real world,

I’m just now finding a minute,

To put pen to paper,

For a Christmassy rhyme.

Sugar cookies never did,

Go into the oven,

No stockings were hung,

Or carols sung,

Here in the real world,

It’s not important to build traditions,

For we are all on a mission,

That holidays don’t seem to fit in.

Seasonal frippery,

And packages full of mystery,

Under a flashy tree,

Aren’t part of the real world,

Here we barely notice,

That these things have come to be regarded,

As a great importance.

Here in the real world,

We’re generally busy,

With no spare time to prepare,

A monstrous feast,

So we gladly give a miss,

To the customary gathering,

Where anyway there is always,

Too much blabbering.

Out there in your world,

Christmas is a big priority,

And you view those over here,

As some kind of freak minority,

With kiddies to raise,

And memories to be made,

Presents must be present,

From wall to wall,

So you buy out the whole mall,

But here in the real world,

We have other things that please us,

And it’s not feasible,

To deal with such fuss.

October Pests

Forget what you’ve heard,

About “nothing is stirring”,

There are things everywhere,

And a lot more than a mouse,

For this isn’t Christmas,

It’s Halloween,

And batshit things are everywhere,

Both seen and unseen.

Cute pumpkins in windows,

Are just for distraction,

Little do you know,

These things could star in a story about Booville,

Rather than Whoville.

Don’t dare do anything,

At six of the clock,

That’s the Devil’s Hour,

And his servants are out,

To seek and devour.

The well-kept graveyard behind Main,

Where Granddaddy lies,

It has come alive,

With Unearthly Spies,

Known to the masses as ghosts,

They are making the decision,

Of who or what to haunt most.

Tread carefully,

If you’ve gone up the mountain,

For an early-season ski,

There’s ghouls behind,

Each pine tree,

Waiting to trip you up,

And bring you for,

Their contribution to,

The Halloween Creature’s Potluck.

It’s a season where many,

Like to make a funny,

Dressing to give friends and kids scares,

That will raise their hairs,

But there are some out there,

That don’t quite mix,

With these fun-spirited humans,

Beware of their tricks,

For if you fall prey to their bait,

You’ll have one god-awful fate.

On Halloween Night,

If you choose not to stay,

Indoors where you,

Have a prayer at staying safe,

I beg you to keep away,

From that corner where Sixth,

Meets up with the meadow,

Surrounded by a wall of bricks,

For it’s here that gathers,

Each Halloween,

A big bunch of cadavers,

All are unhappy to have met,

An untimely end,

And trust me when I tell you,

You don’t want to cause them,

To become any madder,

As they’ll not hesitate,

To unleash their fury,

On anyone,

Whether they’re covered in skin or are furry.

One Halloween Night…….

A bad, bad being,

Was out hunting for a body,

The preference was,

One that was already dying,

It seems around these parts,

The sickly were pretty scarce.

He was running out of time,

For finding the perfect find,

Then the very next night,

In his sights,

Came two who caused him,

Great delight.

One a grandmother type,

And one a tri-colored flop-eared little dog,

Most of his sort,

Would just walk on by,

With a scornful snort,

But he was too relieved to gripe.

So,

Hiding behind a tree,

He started on his take-you-over chant,

But just as his soul,

Was about to start the dance,

That would have it infiltrate hers,

The dog stopped to pee,

And all went crazy.

The distance got misjudged,

And the next thing the little devil knew,

He was looking at the world,

From a four-legged view.

From this point on,

He resented the old woman,

He swore,

To concoct a plan,

And she would get ran,

Out of house and home.

Many times,

As he sat there by the lady’s side,

He passed scheme after scheme,

Through his mind,

But boy,

Lately it was tough doing magic,

Being a dog,

Was proving to be tragic,

Years and years went by,

But he was innocently outfoxed,

At every try.

One night,

He was in an especially rotten mood,

There had always been strange nighttime noises,

They seemingly came from inside the wall,

Being a demon,

This did not bother him,

But he decided it was getting,

High time to scout it out.

Using his seeing spell,

He projected his vision,

Until its strength was supernatural,

And what he saw was to him shocking,

It wasn’t the expected ghosts or goblins.

There was another world inside the wall,

And the fireplace was a portal,

To a land filled with mortals,

It set you down in a particularly pretty room,

In the upstairs of a mansion,

“Oh”!, thought he,

With sarcasm and glee,

“Wouldn’t it be a shame,

If I were to open this thing up,

And she just happened to fall in”?

But he did not get what he sought,

After he opened up the wall,

He thought for sure he could banish,

The pesky busy-body,

But she did not vanish!

She stepped back inside,

Carrying in her hands another,

And that is when his troubles multiplied.

Oh damn it all to hell!

This did not go well!

She was supposed to go there and get stuck,

My plan has gone amok!

It looks like it took too long to close the wall,

And during the stall,

She found her way back inside,

He gave a single sigh and rolled his eyes,

So much for a midnight escape,

And an all-night traipse,

There’d be no new-body search tonight,

He was still a prisoner,

And stuck forever in this self-imposed scrape.

**************************************************************************************

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Has a hut in the wall,

And a great swoosh of power,

Sweeps over it,

Every night,

Around the witching hour.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Spends her life,

Decorating a table-top,

Because she hasn’t got legs,

In which to hop off.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Being a little loopy,

Doesn’t even realize,

That her place is spooky.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Is so used to hearing,

Strange noises in the night,

That at first this really vital one,

Didn’t even cause her any fright.

One evening,

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Was sitting in front,

Of her roaring hearth,

In the oven she had baking,

A vanilla bundt,

Her knitting needles,

Were clicking and clacking,

And at her side as always,

Lay her faithful beagle.

At this same moment,

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was settling in,

For a cozy rest,

When her table-top unexpectedly,

Began to spin.

Mrs. Wall Nut’s mind,

For a time became foggy,

If you could see her,

She was clearly gone,

Though she was sitting right there,

And when she came to,

All she could do,

Was sit there,

With a blank stare.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

When her table-top stopped turning,

Couldn’t believe,

What her eyes were seeing,

The sky-blue wall,

Where the alluring artwork always hung,

It was gone,

And in its place,

Was just a hazy grey space.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Couldn’t be sure,

So she shook her head,

But by then,

They grey she still swears she saw,

Had dissipated,

And in its place,

Was not her fireplace,

But a king-sized room,

Fancy and great.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Before her very eyes,

Saw a whole world,

Where there used to be a wall,

It’s startled her so,

That she yelped in surprise.

Mrs. Wall Nut started,

When she heard a yelp,

Then glanced wildly around,

For whomever may have made,

The hideous sound,

But seeing no one,

She assumed that maybe,

They had hopefully,

Already departed.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

May have seemed calm and quiet,

But inside her head,

There was quite the riot,

As she slowly looked,

From side to side,

For any place,

A wall might hide.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Finally got a grip,

She carefully stood up,

So as not to trip,

Then she felt a mechanical force,

From an unknown source,

Forcing her forward,

So she took a shaky step,

Into that room,

Hoping through her brain fog,

That it would not be her doom.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was finally thinking clearly,

Just as she,

Was about to pinch herself severely,

To know for sure,

She was indeed awake,

Something grabbed her pot,

In a very tight grasp,

Then she was brought,

Into That Place Beyond The Grey Space,

And placed upon a table,

Beside a still-hot cake.

Mrs. Wall Nut sighed,

Well,

At least she had not died,

When she set foot,

On that Other Side,

Then she took a look around and got frantic,

“Oh no!

Where is my dog?

Please say he was not swept off,

With the fog”!?

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Could not stay quiet anymore,

And so called out to,

The grey-haired human,

Standing at,

The cupboard door.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Still unsuccessful at finding,

The missing mutt,

Now made a sound of dismay,

“Oh great”,

She muttered,

“It looks like the pretty thing,

Is alive more than,

Your normal flower,

What else could possibly,

Go awry today,

What in tarnation is causing,

The moving of,

Such awful powers”?

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Felt her temper flare,

That the little lady would dare,

Ignore her address,

Oh yes,

She thought with a smirk,

I know where the doggone dog is,

But I’ll not say,

‘Cuz this bitch is a jerk!

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Sat down and cut herself,

A big slice of cake,

Then as she began to eat,

Her plate started to shake,

She looked to her right,

And her new red plant,

Was sprouting arms and legs,

Then she looked to her left,

And spotted her beagle,

With a look on his face,

Of pure evil.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was starting to feel bad,

As her capturer,

Was looking scared and sad,

So when the woman sat down,

To have herself a little snack,

She was about to politely,

Introduce herself,

When the dog crossed his eyes,

And smacked his tail to the wall,

With a deafening whack,

Which was a spell to make the flower,

Start to feel sour.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Had now lost her appetite,

And she began to think,

That what she might need was a walk,

But before she could leave,

The flower stood up,

And started to talk.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Now felt better,

And was able to make nice,

With the little old lady,

But now how to tell her,

That her beloved pet,

Was out to get her?

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Couldn’t believe her ears,

She had had that animal,

For hundreds of years,

Though it had crossed her mind,

More than a few times,

To wonder at the fact,

That he had not aged nor died.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Here’s what she told her:

“I’ve been eyeing your dog,

Since I was brought,

Through the fog,

And let me tell you,

That’s not a dog,

He is a monster,

That needs to be,

Led to slaughter,

Or you’re gonna,

Be a goner”.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Hated to lose her pet,

But she could see it was true,

He was Evil defined,

Masquerading as,

A sweet canine,

And it was time to bid,

This one adieu.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Other than the pup’s vendetta,

Aimed at her new acquaintance,

Was relishing this new adventure,

But it was slightly boring,

So on a whim,

She decided to test,

Her new limbs.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Heard a scraping sound,

And when she turned around,

Her new friendly flower,

Was climbing downward,

She held her breath,

But the freakish thing stayed steady,

And did not fall to her death.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Laughed delightedly,

These things known as arms and legs,

Using them,

Was proving to be easy.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Then offered up a hand,

And together those two,

Went out-of-doors,

To speak in peace,

On the white-sand beach.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Picked out a small table,

Underneath a bright blue,

Flamingo-covered umbrella,

Where she spoke her condolences,

For how the beagle,

Was actually a threat,

Rather than a dear pet.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Prattled and babbled,

Of course she knew inside,

It would not be her old companion that died,

For of course he was no longer,

A dog at all,

But an evil entity,

Who had used her old pet for,

An possessable body.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was relieved,

When they had a plan in place,

Although she did feel dreadful,

At her friend’s downcast face.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Went back into her hut,

And pretending ignorance,

She beckoned the dog to follow,

While trying not to boohoo.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was ready and waiting,

With the bait,

And before they knew it,

It had sealed his fate.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

She was surprised,

At how she felt nothing,

When life left those eyes,

But as if it were part of the magic,

When the thing left,

It’s like it committed theft,

It stole her loving emotions,

And forever broke her ties,

Of devotion.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

She was relieved,

At seeing the disintegration,

Of the elderly woman’s,

Supposed companion,

But of course this meant,

The curse that had been cast,

And held her fast,

Was the dog’s last,

And going back,

To her own side of the wall,

Now may not be,

Possible at all.

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Without a doubt sympathized,

Although that anyone may want,

To leave her hut,

Took her by surprise.

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Soon settled in,

She learned this seaside tropic,

Was a fairy town,

Surrounded on all sides by ocean,

And soon her frown,

Permanently turned,

Upside down,

She even took a job,

At Beach Bum Burgers,

Serving the sort of treats,

She had doctored up,

For the little dog’s murder.

That Is Not The Reason For The Season

It’s not about eating candy canes,

Those were created to signify,

He who died.

It’s not about whose tree is prettiest,

They’re all wonderful,

Without a doubt,

But that’s not what,

The day is all about.

It’s not about a fancy feast,

You should be thinking rather of those,

Walking through your door,

For whom you cooked it for.

It’s not about the presents,

Yes the Wise Men gave,

To show their appreciation,

But this Santa thing has been blown,

Tremendously out of proportion.

It’s not about the lights,

Those too signify Christ,

And it really would not be a plight,

If you forgot to plug them in one night.

It’s not about the carols,

The day really will go on,

If you choose not to hear those songs.

It’s not about expensive ornaments,

They are simply,

Unnecessary adornments.

It’s not about the stockings,

They solely arose from a legend,

At that First Christmas,

They were never even mentioned.

It’s not about the Elves,

They came about,

Just to fill,

Your entertainment center’s shelves.

Would not our ancestors,

At that First Christmas be surprised,

With the way the day,

Has been commercialized?

People need to think on,

How and why the Season came about,

Before they go ahead,

And pull their wallets out.

An Improbable Holiday Happening

In case you happen,

To give a damn,

A thousand miles,

From wherever you are,

In a place quite inaccessible,

By a car,

Lives a Candy Cane,

Who is alive.

A Winter Wonderland,

We would call it,

It’s all white and barren,

And populated

By surly Snow Men.

Here in this Christmassy place,

Where there are many living Things,

One day there came,

A great storm cloud,

There were gusty winds,

That were terrible loud,

It soon burst forth,

With a sugary rain,

As down poured Candy Canes.

Most were devoured,

By all the Snow Men,

But one was spared,

And as he grew up,

It was declared,

That he was sent,

To make the Snow Men repent.

You see these surly Snow Men,

Did many crimes,

During their lifetimes,

Because in this lawless land,

One could do whatever,

Without reprimand.

Due to his sweet nature,

The Candy Cane became known,

As Mr. Sugar Cane,

And at the age of ten,

Learned his magical powers,

Permitted him to,

Think of a spot,

And be transported there,

On the dot.

Through books he learned,

About far-off places,

Where he went,

To meet new faces.

Most places he visited,

Just once but maybe twice,

‘Til he happened upon,

A jolly couple,

Old and fat,

And always happily chuckling,

The Mr. made toy trains for fun,

And the Mrs. had a barn,

She kept full of pet fawns.

Mr. Sugar Cane,

Visited this place often,

He loved the winter weather,

And the way everyone there,

Got on well together.

One day while conversing,

With old Nick and Mary,

Talk turned to the Snow Men,

He started cursing,

And told of their crimes,

Then expressed a wish for his home,

To experience more peaceful times.

It was proposed by Nick,

That he could employ,

These naughty boys,

To make tons of toys.

A great spell could be cast,

For them to forget their past,

He would call them Elves,

And curse them to always,

Keep toys on his workshop’s shelves.

Once a year,

Old Nick would deliver,

These toys to bring cheer,

To small boys and girls,

All over the world.

Even the deer volunteered,

To help with formulating,

This Master Plan,

And soon another spell was developed,

Fitting them to fly,

Now they could take,

Old Nick on the deliveries,

As with his old van,

He’d never make them on time.

That night when the Candy Cane returned home,

He had some magic stuff,

All sparkly and blue,

He went from place to place,

Where each Snow Man dwelled,

And this dust was felled,

It would take effect,

When next they crossed,

Over their doorstep.

They would be conveyed very quickly,

To the world of Nick and Mary,

Now called North Pole,

Where they were unknowingly slaves for life,

Toymaking forever,

With no time to cause strife.

Mr. Sugar Cane is still there,

In his Winter Wonderland,

Along with many other living Things,

Who think the place grand.

His best friend is a Christmas stocking,

Now in our world,

That would surely set people to talking,

But here,

It’s really not too shocking.

Whether or not you believe it,

This story should not be scorned,

As this really was how,

The North Pole got born.