I knew a grinch named OCD
who threatened to take my Christmas from me.
He said instead I'd think of things
like sickly friends and toilet rings.

I asked him why? I asked him how?
And then I thought inside me, "Wow!"
Why would he do so mean a thing?
Why steal the joy that I could bring?

He gloomed; he fumed; and then he spoke:
"It's just my kind of wicked joke!
You kids are having fun aplenty
I'm here to see there won't be any!"

He said he hated happy faces
with muscles fixed in smiling places.
He couldn't stand to see us play
and vowed to take our fun away.

"My favorite tool," he said to me,
"is one I call ANXIETY!!
With some fear and with some doubt,
I can rub this Christmas out!"

This guy was bad, a total jerk.
He gave me pains that made him smirk.
I doubted things I never dreamed
and had to be sure, or so it seemed.

And so I checked, and checked some more
to see if I had locked the door.
And when it seemed that I was done,
I had to check another one.

He put some pictures in my mind,
yucky ones, you know the kind.
Then up he rose and said to me,
"I'm going to spread this OCD!"

"This fear is fun, at least for me
and no one in your family
will really ever understand
the pain you suffer; Oh, how grand!"

"You know, you're not the only one
that I've exposed to Anti-Fun.
But you'll never know who has this fear
for silent and scared they stay all year!!"

He hissed and slithered out the door
and went to spread his pain some more.
I went to wake my Mom and Dad,
and make them say it's not so bad.

But when I woke them they were sore
And told me I should shut the door.
They said, "Just go, and leave us be;
there's no such thing as OCD!"

I realized the grinch was right,
and then I shivered, cold with fright.
What if I really just was lazy,
slightly nuts, or going crazy?

And then somehow I found relief:
His strength was really my belief!
If I took him at his word
then all my world was just absurd.

It made me mad; my heart raced faster
I went to get my Prozac Blaster.
I rustled up my CBT
(all's fair in war, it seemed to me).

So off I went into the night
to find the monster of my fright
To face him down, to save the Season,
but most of all to save my reason.

I found him asking other kids
what they feared most. I cried, "No bids!
Don't tell him of the things you cherish
'cause he will make your pleasure perish!"

I thought I must have sounded strange,
that kids might think, "Man, he's deranged."
But OCD I had to face
or let him rule every place.

He turned to face me with his doubt
and tried to cast my courage out.
He tried to turn my friends away
he tried, but truth was mine to say.

"I have a brain disease, my friends,
called OCD, and it never ends.
But with your help and lots of guts
you all can help me not go nuts."

It was a risk, I knew that well
and expected that my pulse would swell.
But wait! The fear was not so strong;
it didn't really last that long!

I realized this was the trick
that made my brain disorder sick;
By taking risks and standing proud
the grinch himself was not so loud.

For extra help, I got my gun
(it was MY turn to have some fun!)
And with my favorite Prozac Blaster
I shot the grinch, that rotten (deleted).

In fact as he was fading out
the sight of it just made me shout:
"I think I know now who I am
and fear is just a hologram!"

And though the grinch still lurked around
his fading made him less profound.
My Holidays were still intact
primarily because I chose to act.

So all of you in cyberspace
that read this from your safety place:
look that grinch right in the eye
and tell him it's HIS turn to die!

dr.hat (with cadenzas by D. Sands)