The Day After Christmas
A Children’s Poem
or
The Anti-Claus and the Eight Reindeer of the Apocalypse
‘Twas the day after Christmas, I’d live through one more
As I stared at the gift wrap that covered the floor
and thought “Stockings are still hung, the tree is still here –
I think I’ll leave them up well into the new year.”
I told both the kids to go play with their toys
or go out and throw snowballs, but keep down the noise
so my wife with her migraines, and I with no sleep
both agreed that it was into bed we should creep.
When suddenly, with the loud sound of a crash,
through the roof came a snowplow, all covered with ash!
Tied with thick leather reins stretching up toward the skies
And atop it, a strange man with small, shifty eyes.
He wore tattered green snowpants, a worn-out black coat,
a tattoo on his arm or the head of a goat,
and a frenzied expression of evil and sleaze
as he threw his thin frame from the snowplow with ease
And said “I take and damage, without any cause!
For, true to the legend, I’m the Anti-Claus!
And I know that you’ll see the police won’t be flagged,
’cause I’ve got both your kids there outside, bound and gagged!”
So he leapt to his duties, and stuffed my TV
in his bag, with a cackle of demonic glee
and then, dumping my silverware into his sack,
and while jumping and flinging it onto his back,
He did knock down the bookshelf, which crashed to the floor
as he ran to the pantry to take something more.
He returned with two bottles of vodka and scotch
and screamed “Give me your valuables! Wallet and watch!
He took our small items, jumped back in his seat,
then nodded his head as he kicked up his feet
and the snowplow was pulled straight up into the air –
so I ran in the street to see what was out there.
When I looked up I saw the most frightening of shows:
Nine huge ugly reindeer, in two fearsome rows!
And leading, with swastika tattooed on head,
one deer with a short mustache and nose glowing red!
The cavalcade stood on my roof in the snow
as my children both struggled, tied up down below
and the strange man commanded the deer at his game,
shouting and calling to each one by name:
“On Demon! On Danger! On Warlock and Werewolf!
On Pestilence, Death, Disease, Famine – and Adolph!”
And onto the garage the deer pulled the snowplow
as the malnourished man gave us both a deep bow.
With a gulp of my scotch and a shake of the reins
and a slight glance up in search of low-flying planes,
the strange man did fly off, shouting for all to hear,
“Thanks a lot for the stuff, buddy! See you next year!”
Copyright 2020 Martin Azevedo