|'Twas Denied Before Christmas
|Posted on Wednesday, December 24, 2003 - 05:55 pm: |
NEWS ITEM: SANTA ACTUALLY EXISTS
'Tis the night before Christmas; each playing its role,
Not a creature is stirring, the moon is not full.
The stalkings and hangings are on the increase
And the merchants are shearing the buyers like geese.
The children are sacked in, avoiding the Feds,
While pot-induced visionings dance in their heads.
Milady's complaining, she's with a porn-bot
Assailed by a Cyborg who cannot spell twat.
We'll soon settle in for a long winter's nap
Of genetic changes to which we adapt.
The moon on the crest of the new-fallen snow
Illumines vast riots transpiring below.
The lunatic fringe is descrying an elf
Solipsistically linking the night to himself.
Levitational clatter, astral transmission dins
Arise to some deer giving ear to his sins.
His presence evokes the uncanny unknown--
When will he finish and leave us alone?
He drops a few tokens of his great esteem;
Its effect is of being strafe-bombed in a dream.
Then he turns and exclaims, "Now dashing all hope
I hie from this place as in Cinemascope!"
I said as I saw the last of his flannel,
"We are letting our claims lapse to the SciFi Channel."