Yes Even More Nights Before
One Crazy Cool Yule
'Twas the Night before Christmas has lots of nice rhymes
But I fear that the tale doesn't fit modern times.
What is a kerchief? My dad wears no cap.
He snores the whole night, no way it's a nap.
They tell me that Santa is coming tonight.
He'll be flying in here on a sleigh. Yeah, RIGHT!
When I was much younger I believed all that stuff,
Now that I'm older I know it's a bluff.
As this Christmas eve is going so slow
I sneak down the stairs to watch HBO.
I listen for sounds throughout our big house.
My mom would go crazy if we had a mouse.
All of a sudden I hear the floor squeak
Someone is coming, sneakety, sneak.
And then as my heart leaps up to my throat
I see a fat man in a funny red coat.
He stands by the table and looks through the house
And takes from his pocket a tiny gray mouse.
He says, "Ho, Ho Ho, I truly believe,
There must be a mouse in each Christmas eve."
His belt buckle shakes as he laughs, look at that.
My gosh this jolly old guy sure is fat.
He looks up. He sees me and gives a big smile.
Says, "I came to see you. Let's talk for a while.
"You're one grown up child that doesn't believe
That Santa Claus comes on each Christmas eve.
You're a big girl. Your mind's filled with doubt.
It's simple, without me the joy is left out.
"I remember the time you sat on my knee
A smile on your face, eyes sparkling with glee.
Don't you remember the thrill you felt then?
With a little belief you can feel it again.
"Santa Claus comes for each child at the start.
The rest of their lives I live in their heart.
If you are a youngster or wrinkled old guy
You still can hear sleigh bells ring cross the sky."
He turns as he says, "Will you please come out here?
And there on the driveway stand eight cool reindeer.
They all nod to me and then snort in chorus,
"Who's this pretty girl now standing before us?"
I wave as I tell them, "I'm Anna May."
As the big burley guy crawls into his sleigh.
He says, "It's my new team, a real with-it crew.
I'll let Captain Cosmos give their names to you."
"Here's E-mail and Hat Rack, Cool Dude and Charley,
I'm Cosmos, there's Awesome, Brucie and Narley.
Head Cat is Santa, the North Pole's his home,
We see him all year cause we hang out in Nome."
Then they take off and fly to the roof
Tap a short rap and give a "high hoof."
All turn and shout, "Tonight reindeers rule.
The eight of us wish you a crazy cool Yule."
Then Santa shouts, "It's true some things change.
But believe in the basics." As he speeds out of range.
Then I hear repeated, as my willing ears strain,
The words I now love, my favorite refrain.
'Twas the Night before Christmas has some things outdated
But The Story, dear folks, is not overrated.
Throw open the window, and rejoice in the sight!
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
The Programmers Night Before
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the shop,
The computers were whirring; they never do stop.
The power was on and the temperature right,
In hopes that the input would feed back that night.
The system was ready, the program was coded,
And memory drums had been carefully loaded;
While adding a Christmasy glow to the scene,
The lights on the console, flashed red, white and green.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
The programmer ran to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway he flew like a flash,
Forgetting his key in his curious dash.
He stood in the hallway and looked all about,
When the door slammed behind him, and he was locked out.
Then, in the computer room what should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer;
And a little old man, who with scarcely a pause,
Chuckled: "My name is Santa...the last name is Claus."
The computer was startled, confused by the name,
Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow exclaim:
"This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,
And Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen."
With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew;
It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew.
It searched in its memory core, trying to "think";
Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink.
Unable to do its electronic job,
It said in a voice that was almost a sob:
"Your eyes - how they twinkle - your dimples so merry,
Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry,
Your smile - all these things, I've been programmed to know,
And at data-recall, I am more than so-so;
But your name and your address (computers can't lie),
Are things that I just cannot identify.
You've a jolly old face and a little round belly,
That shakes when you laugh like a bowl full of jelly;
My scanners can see you, but still I insist,
Since you're not in my program, you cannot exist!"
Old Santa just chuckled a merry "ho, ho",
And sat down to type out a quick word or so.
The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound sharp and clean,
As Santa fed this "data" to the machine:
"Kids everywhere know me; I come every year;
The presents I bring add to everyone's cheer;
But you won't get anything - that's plain to see;
Too bad your programmers forgot about me."
Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug,
"Merry Christmas to All," as he pulled out its plug!
The Aliens Night before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the spaceship,
Every creature was stirring,
Including Commander Flongwhip.
Uniforms were thrown
On the floor without a care,
As many aliens floated,
Upside-down, in mid-air.
And Commander Flongwhip with his Snotglop,
And I in my Fnack,
Set a course for Earth,
As we had a large snack.
When suddenly outside the spaceship
There arose such a clatter,
That I jumped up from my chair,
Thinking we had hit a pile of matter.
Away to the spaceship window
I ran with Captain Fnash,
Tripped over Sargent Suttah
And fat Lieutenant Clash!
The moon on the side
Of our spaceship was shining,
And then I heard Sphignat,
Our spacedog, start whining.
When what to my large,
Onyx eyes should appear,
But long, shooting flames
Coming out our ship's rear!
I turned to Captain Fnash,
Who was now floating more quick,
And said, "Captain, I fear
We've run into Saint Nick!"
More rapid than dungshotz
Flew the reindeer we'd maimed,
And as we entered Earth's atmosphere,
I suddenly exclaimed:
"Poor, Dasher! Poor, Dancer!
Poor, Prancer and Vixen!
Poor, Comet! Poor, Cupid!
Poor, Donder and Blitzen!
They got in our flight path
As we were starting to fall,
And somehow our spaceship
Ran into them all!"
To the tops of their antlers!
To the tops of their heads!
These deer had an accident,
And I hope they're not dead!"
As dry spaceship waste
Emits a foul odor,
When it's left to sit too long
With no spinning motor,
Somehow these eight reindeer
Got in our way,
And since they're Santa's team,
They'll now be heck to pay.
Then we landed on Earth,
And saw the injured reindeer fly
Over our heads with
Huge, bewildered eyes.
These poor deer had met
With an obstacle in the sky,
Up in the atmosphere,
Surely they were flying too high.
And then, suddenly I saw them
On our ship's roof,
They were scraping and clawing
With each reindeer hoof.
As I was turning around,
I heard a strange sound
And saw Saint Nicholas fall down
From the sky with a bound!
He landed on our spaceship,
Squashing four of his deer,
And then he yelled terrible words,
And I was filled with great fear.
He was dressed in black fur,
From his head to his foot,
And his once-red clothes were tarnished,
But from ship's fumes, not soot.
A bundle of broken toys was
Slapped across his back,
And a pedal from some poor kid's bike
Went sailing out of his pack.
His eyes - how mad they looked!
His dimples, were silly,
His cheeks were sagging balls of fat,
His nose was bumpy and hilly!
His drooling, little mouth
Was tied up like a sash,
And the beard on his chin
Was as brown as moldy mash.
The stump of a pipe
Had caused him to break his teeth,
And the smoke from our spaceship
Circled his puffy head like a wreath.
He had a blimp of a face
And a hugely fat belly,
That was covered with remnants
Of peanut butter and jelly.
He was chubby and plump,
A quite old, fat, elf,
And I pulled out my ray gun--and aimed it,
In spite of myself!
A blink of his eye
And a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know
I had something to dread.
I spoke not a word,
But went straight to my work,
And began to neutralize him,
Before turning with a jerk,
And cramming a finger
Inside of my nose,
And giving a nod,
Into my spaceship I rose.
I sprang to the bridge,
To my team gave a scream,
And away we all flew,
Like we'd just had a bad dream.
Another Trekkie Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the armory securely,
In hope that no aliens 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 halls there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pants and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the cars and yelled loudly, "Deck One!;
"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 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 your aim at this dunce!",
"I'm deeply offended, Jean-Luc," replied Q.
"I just wanted to spend 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 the pile,
And handed out gifts with his most charming smile.
"For Counselor Troi, there's no need to explain,
Here's Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain.
For Worf I've got mints as his breath's not too great,
And for Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date.
For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-Plus; for Riker, a truss.
For Beverly Crusher, there's sleek lingerie,
And for Jean-Luc, the pleasure to see her that way.
Then 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!!"
A Visit From St. Hick
'Twas late Christmas eve, and throughout the White House
All slumbered but Socks (who was chewing a mouse)
When all of a sudden a thunderous roar
Rattled the East Wing from rafter to floor.
Unsure if the noise was just gas or artillery,
Bill Clinton took action: he deputized Hillary.
In her robe and her slippers, she trudged to the source
Of the noise and saw nothing, but then heard a coarse
Texas twang from the fireplace clamor
"Down here! Are y'all just as blind as those tinhorn reindeer?"
There, on the hearth, 'midst the timber and tinder,
Sat H. Ross Perot, all covered with cinder.
"Your flue," he complained, "is disgusting with soot.
You gave far too many staff members the boot.
Cutting budgets is wonderful; better is cheaper.
But you need either Zoe's or Kimba's housekeeper.
From ashes that thick, someone's breathing might fail.
Thank goodness, like Bill, that I didn't inhale."
"Why, Ross," replied Hillary, "pray tell what is it
To which Bill and I owe this Christmas Eve visit?
You're certainly welcome to use the front door.
Did you come down the chimney to hide from Al Gore?"
Shaking the layer of ash from his head,
Ross brushed his flattop, glowered and said:
"No, Ma'am. I'm a shareholder in Santa Claus, Inc.,
Whose dividends recently started to sink.
When I finally cornered old Santa himself,
He offered to hire me on as an elf!
So I planned my attack, set my financing snares,
Then bought all the company's outstanding shares.
Christmas trees won't be all that get trimmed from now on;
The era of deficit budgets is gone.
The business is gonna be run right because
All day, every day, now I am Santa Claus."
From his inside coat pocket Ross whipped out a chart
And a pointer he brandished with well-practiced art.
"Now, you look at this. You see this here graph?
The way Santa's workshop was run is a laugh.
Those North Pole utility bills are a joke,
And the union-scale wages will soon have us broke.
We need much, much cheaper electrical power,
And elves who don't make fifteen dollars an hour."
For dramatic effectiveness, Ross took a pause,
Then resumed his debut as the new Santa Claus.
"Each new day brings another environment rule.
Recycling toys is a pain in the Yule!
The slogan 'keep the North Pole white'
Is driving expenditures clear out of sight.
Luckily, NAFTA provides a solution,
A haven in which I can discharge pollution
Into the air or the land of my neighbor,
Where the real estates cheap, and so is the labor.
Where there's no powerful union committee:
I'm moving the workshop to Mexico City."
Then, in a twinkle, up the chimney he went,
Back through the soot out the cold rooftop vent.
But not before saying, with a wink and a nod,
"Buenos noches, Miss Hillary, and Feliz Navidad!"
by Christopher M. Mislow
Al Bundy's Christmas Eve
'Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the house,
No food was a-stirrin',
Not even a mouse.
Stockings were hung round
Dad's nick like a tie,
Along with a note that said,
"Presents or die."
Children were plotting
All night in their beds,
While the wife's constant whining
Was splitting his head.
But daddy had money
This year in the bank,
Then they closed up early,
And now dad's in a tank.
All of a sudden,
Santa appeared,
A sneer on his face,
Booze in his beard.
"Santa," I said,
As he laughed merrily,
"You do so much for others,
Do something for me."
"Bundy," he said,
"You only sell shoes,
Your son is a sneak thief,
Your daughter's a floose."
"Ho ho," Santa said,
"Should I mention your wife?
Her hair's like an A-bomb,
Her nails like a knife."
He climbs up the chimney,
That fat piece of dung,
He mooned me two times,
He stuck out his tongue.
I heard him exclaim,
As he broke wind with glee,
"You're married with children,
You'll never be free."
The Night Before Christmas
More Nights Before Christmas
Even More Nights Before Christmas
Advent Calendar
My christmas Home Page
Back to wendy and Aurels Garden Path
