This poem was released in daily sections in the lead-up to Christmas 2019. All sections are in the form of a single stanza. Links to the original posts are in the stanza numbers. Enjoy!
Santa Claus sat in his grotto of old,
The ice dripping water and the biting wind cold.
“Bad, naughty, wicked and mean!”
These kids were the worst that there ever had been.
He tore through his list growing madder and madder,
The first time was bad, the second time sadder.
“What’s wrong with these kids?” he screamed at the wall,
His booming voice thundering through workshop and hall.
First there was Armand, the mean little devil,
In the suffering of others, he surely did revel.
And then there was Amy, the hot-tempered scamp,
She loved to cause pain; good spirits made damp.
All the way through, to Z straight from A,
The miscreant imps caused chaos each day.
As the spark left his eyes, the cheer left his cheeks:
“I’ll find a solution in the upcoming weeks.”
What should he do? Claus paced ‘cross the floor.
Pond’rously pondering, he pondered some more.
A lump of coal – mean! No presents – so sad!
They didn’t have the impact he knew they once had.
The unhappy Nick wracked his old brain,
Until his breathing grew laboured and pained.
Somewhere, something deep down inside popped!
And with a groan and a gasp, his heart finally stopped.
His great, rotund corpse
Hit the ground with full force.
Face-down on the floor…
Saint Nick was no more.
An odd wind blew on the night of his death,
Something dark swirled after Nick’s final breath.
His hands they did twitch, his eyes they did stir.
Ask anyone, they’ll tell you: something strange did occur.
Some say a spirit or demon took note
Of the empty body that had started to bloat.
All we know now is this simple fact:
What happened that night, we cannot retract.
With a growl and a groan, and a “HO-HO-HO!”
Santa jumped up and danced on his toes.
But look in his eyes, you’ll see something’s not right;
The whites of his eyes are now as black as the night!
Off ran the thing that was recently dead,
He tore through the workshop, heading straight for the shed.
From the open door came the whine of reindeer
If Rudolph is scared, then you’ve something to fear.
What emerged from the shadows should never be seen;
Sharp teeth, glowing nose, and eyes that are mean.
To this stomping beast I wish I was oblivious,
A hooved abomination; a reindeer carnivorous.
Some elves did spot that old Nick wasn’t right,
But those that spoke out went missing that night.
The servants that stayed laboured all day as slaves;
And what they worked on they will take to their graves.
All through the day and all through the night,
The workers ploughed on, without respite.
And as Christmas Eve drew nearer and nearer,
The tragedy to come became clearer and clearer.
All over the world,
Young boys and young girls
Went to sleep on that night;
Dreams of gifts and sleigh’s flight.
“ON BASHER, ON SLASHER,
ON MURDEROUS VIXEN!
THE WORLD HAS GONE BAD,
LET’S BLOW ‘EM TO BITS, THEN!”
The sleigh took to sky on a night inky black,
The elves feebly watched, there was no going back.
With a roar from the man and a crack of his whip,
They fled in a flash, into darkness they slipped.
The first of the naughty woke up with a jolt
To the stomping of hooves and sounds that revolt.
“Santa?” they asked, near the end of life’s plan.
“SANTA IS DEAD. I AM THE RED MAN.”
The screams that cut through the silence so still
Haunt me until my death day they will.
From rooftop to rooftop he skipped through the snow,
Scratching names off his list, sending souls down below.
Parents went scrambling to wayward tots’ beds
Only to find their errant kids dead.
A few were left safe, p’rhaps one in a million,
The reason was glaring; they were the good children.
As word quickly spread of how Santa changed,
The last few kids themselves they arranged.
The youngsters now armed, had banded together
To take down Saint Nick, for now and forever.
The children spied The Red Man in sight,
And with their slingshots, shot him out of flight.
The sleigh and reindeer crashed to a halt,
All the beasts dead, except for Rudolph.
The man and deer charged with a murderous yell,
But the young stood their ground: “You can go back to Hell!”
There was a clashing of arms, and much blood was spilled,
And before the tide turned, the deer ate his fill.
But the tide it did turn,
And the man and deer burned.
It was all quickly over
Thanks to makeshift flamethrowers.
A cheer rose up: “Santa’s gone from this world!”
But zombie Saint Nick had some final few words:
“I’LL GET YOU NEXT YEAR, YOU ALL ARE MY QUARRY!
I AM THE RED MAN, AND YOU’LL ALL BE SORRY!”