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Thursday 11 December 2014

Santa Claus and the Night of a Thousand Rolling Heads

I'm no poet, not by a long stretch. But, every so often, while you're hoovering or making an almighty mess of your garden and calling it 'weeding', an idea descends. Certain lines almost write themselves before your eyes. You rush inside and scribble stuff on a notepad (or, as we say in the futuristic 21st Century, use your stylus to scribble on your tablet) and, lo! You end up with the disturbing nonsense which follows below...

This isn't new material, I wrote it some time ago (and it's also available at shorts.88tales.com). But it's Christmas - and like this great nation's television channels, that's reason enough to recycle old rubbish and present it as if it's new. Enjoy!

-Wilf



                   T’was a cold and silent Christmas Eve,
good folk slept warm in bed.
They waited for their presents,
brought by Santa on his sled.

But little did those good folk know,
as snow fell soft and thick,
that evil men of ill intent
had plans for poor Saint Nick.

Santa’s night began as usual,
with him coming to his sleigh,
ready to start his long night’s toil,
to leave without delay.

But then he knew something was wrong
for as plain as he could see
every single one of his reindeer
had been chopped off at the knee.

“Who did this?” Santa boomed with rage,
his throat choked up with anger.
“It was the Elves…” croaked Rudolph,
“…they beat us up with our own antlers…”

And even worse (“what, worse?” you cry)
when Nick looked on his sleigh,
he saw his great big sack of gifts
had been stolen clean away!

“The Elves…” he said through gritted teeth,
“…this has been coming for an age…”
They’d long been whispering of revolt
for they got less than minimum wage.

From a secret panel within his sleigh,
Santa drew (for t’was no trifle)
a shining sword both long and sharp
and a full-bore assault rifle.

“Come, then, Elf kingdom one and all,
‘Tis true, I’ll make you pay.”
He swung his sword and cocked his gun,
“Come on, punks, make my day.”

He followed, then, the trail of toys
to a far, secluded spot.
Then he prepared to rescue Christmas
and unravel this evil plot.

All at once, from front and back,
from left and right, they came.
Once loyal elves, armed to the teeth,
their bobble hats aflame.

“Death to the tyrant!” they cried as one
and swarmed him in their masses.
But quickly they saw their mistake
as Santa kicked their asses.

“How dare you threaten Christmas,
and cripple my reindeer true?
Yes, Prancer may be somewhat camp,
But he never did anything to you!”

And soon the Elves were beaten,
and all Santa’s ammo spent.
Yet, still old Nick was puzzled.
What could have triggered their dissent?

T’was true he paid them pittance,
but their tasks they’d never shirk.
“Come on out!” he shouted then,
for he sensed other hands at work.

Figures stepped out of the darkness
For, indeed, they were hidden there.
And at last the vile originators
of this plot were laid to bare.

Halloween’s Jack o’ Lantern,
and Tooth-Fairy (she had the money),
that knave of hearts, Sir Valentine,
even the Easter Bunny.

A never-ending line of fantasy folk
whom Santa once called friend
had all turned out, armed to the teeth
to plot old Nickster’s end.

“We all work really ‘ard,” said Jack,
“for our livins, just like we oughtta,
but in just one night, this time a’ year,
you blow us out the water!”

“Jealousy?” said old Saint Nick,
“This alone is your reason?”
“Yeah,” said Easter Bunny,
“So now we’re gonna end your season.”

“You can’t stop Christmas,” said Saint Nick
and took not a single step backwards.
He dropped his gun, brought up his sword.
“Bring it, you naughty bastards.”

The arctic night was full of screams
as Santa went to town.
Neither holiday nor tradition was spared.
He took them all straight down.

The Easter Bunny was impaled
but if you think that scary,
then you really do not want to know
what he did to the Tooth-Fairy.

Eventually, Jack’s pumpkin-head
graced the end of Santa’s blade.
And so it came to its natural end,
this fantasy creatures’ crusade.

“Christmas rules,” said Santa Claus,
“Fine. See me as a baddie.
But even as you lie dead now,
know this : I am the Daddy.”

And so Santa found the gift sack,
and crippled as they were,
the reindeer still managed to drag the sleigh
round all the earth in a blur.

So if next Easter, you get no eggs,
next Valentine, you get no card,
or your child’s next tooth fetches them no coin,
please don’t take it too hard.

For Santa’s got your back,
he’ll fill your Christmas to the brim.
And if you have a problem with that…


…well, you can take it up with him.

Monday 1 December 2014

Welcome to the Ramblings of an Idiot

Hello, and welcome to the ramblings of an idiot. First things first, I'm not an actual idiot. I'm way too boring to be an actual idiot. I'm just a regular guy who - like most guys - lives in his own world a great proportion of the time.

Fortunately, in that world there are spaceships and super-powers and spies and last minute screamers into the top corner and one ring to rule them all-

Okaay.. maybe, an idiot.

However, I am also a writer. I have written novels, novellas, shorts and even a poem (it rhymes and it's about Santa putting down an Elf revolt). I daresay many of my posts will have a story / writing / books-type slant to them.

You can check out my (let's face it, totally awesome) work at Eighty8Tales Press (www.88tales.com), much of which is available for free because I'm nice.

You can also catch up with me on Twitter - I'm @Wilf007. I'm probably on Google+ somewhere, too. What can I say? The Matrix has me.


Hope you stick around and read a few posts - look forward to chatting..!


Cheers

Wilf