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Inside: Cultural Sausage. ~ Ludic Lists. ~ Skullbucket. Outside: Holiday
Week continues! With apoligies to Edward Gorey.
"molasses smell" "NyQuil overuse" "how to falsify" "William McKinley sucks" "old man and smarter children" "only monkeys and apes fucking women" "bear jocks" "sexy Hitler" |
12.20.2004
Everyone loves a good Christmas, you know -- the presents and good times and eggnog. Or so you might think, but some children balk at the snow, like these little ones, twenty-six years ago. Take Abner, a youngster who came from Detroit: he knocked down each tree, from Belize to Beloit. He thought causing chaos his personal droit; didn't make it past April -- he was gone from the goit. Or Bitsy, who melted each neighborhood snowman -- she did it with flair like some Vaudeville showman. You think that she prospered? I'm sad to say no, man; she bloated and burst like some overfed Roman. Cheswick, a diplomat's son based in Tikrit, was widely despised for not keeping a secret. He spoiled every present he could get a peek at and died on New Year's, pecked to bits by an egret. Dunsany did something terribly shocking: he'd cut whopping holes in the toes of your stocking. The price that he paid for this Christmas up-cocking? He choked on a chip and the reaper came knocking. Egbert, an unpleasant laddie from Rhymney, took it upon him to stuff up the chimney. Kept out St. Nick and kept smoke in, by Jim'ny -- a fatal mistake for his family and himney. Felicity Jane thought the season a slog and so spoilt it for others by salting the nog. Further still misbehaving by chasing the dog, she was forever lost, sadly sunk in a bog. Gaston wished no one a joyeux Noel; he spat upon Santas and cracked silver bells. His fate was so great that I barely can tell -- even now he's the fattest roast turkey in Hell. Hedley got sore when the chestnuts were roasting, for they drew attention away from his boasting. He dismantled the oven and ruined the toasting and now splits his time between ghouling and ghosting. Isidore's problem was holiday cheer: it made him feel icky and filled him with fear. He'd dash decorations and drain out warm beer 'til an asteroid (errant) cut short his career. Then there was joyless and unjocund Jackie: She thought that Christmas was terribly tacky. In the face of a reindeer she spat some tobacky, and went blind when one reindeer spit it right backy. Kensington Dobson thought Yuletide a bore; he snowballed the celebratants at his door. He'd do it again, too, and laugh with a roar; You won't see ol' Kensington Dobson no more. Lemuel hated the sight of a sleigh; to hear its bells ringing caused him much dismay. He'd bend up their runners so they'd go astray and that is why one struck him down Christmas day. Merciless, mean and malicious was Merrill, whose ears could not stand to be struck by a carol. He'd pelt every singer with pots full of peril; But he drank victory and was drowned in a barrel. No feaster on goose and plum pudding was Nevin; he preferred salt cod and bread quite unleavened. He ruined one meal and then three and then seven, then fell off a building so fast he missed Heaven. A loather of St. Nicholas was young Otto, who'd mock Father Christmas in voces unsotto. "I'll queer it for everyone!" -- this was his motto, until he was dispatched by a nasty blood clotto. Peggy Ann Pritchard despised red and green; the color scheme made her both angry and mean. She pitched vials of squid ink at all on the scene but a falling rock ensured she'd not make thirteen. Quigley and Quincy and Quimby were brothers who forced all their flaunting of Christmas on others. They said that they'd ban it if they had their druthers! The fault for their strangling's not solely their mother's. Rodney thought he who loved Christmas an ass. To tear down the tinsel and glitter? A gas! He'd pitch rocks at windows for holiday mass; give his grave a quick brisk salute when you pass. Selma was prejudiced against the elves; she wished that they'd bug off and keep to themselves. She caught them and stuffed them and kept them on shelves; you'll not find the dungeon in which she now delves. Timothy Higgins would never give gifts; among his rich family this caused savage rifts. Christmas, a mug by the fireplace he lifts -- New Year's, vainly through the ashes they sifts. Ugolin detests the cold of the winter and rips through the season like some speedy sprinter. His fate's like the lead in some play by H. Pinter -- forsook by his family, done in by a splinter. Viktor did not like the star on the tree and knocked it off every tannenbaum he'd see. He'd bust it for you and he'd bust it for me then was busted himself to the penitent'ry. Wilma's derision was poured on the chumps who beelined to Santa, his lap to their rumps. She made every toddler feel down in the dumps 'til she died on St. Swivin's day, felled by the mumps. Xavier preferred summer sports to the sledding and skiing that Christmastime brought to a heading. He refused to play and curled up in his bedding; he expired there, trapped like a fish in some netting. Yakov thought every Christmas was blue; all season he scarcely knew what he would do. He forgot this lesson while spitting his spew: In Soviet Russia, the Yule log burns you. Zuleika loathed Christmas, she'd bellow with pride: she also loathed Kwanzaa, Hannuka and Eid. But she didn't last to be anyone's bride; she actually -- well, let's just say that she died. So children, despite how you might hate the season, don't spoil it for others without any reason; you'd best mind your manners -- now, kids, I'm not teasin' -- or else you might find yourself sist-and-deceasin'! |
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| TODAY'S DRIFTWOOD: "Let death find us on horseback or planting cabbages, among games, festivals, jokes, common and popular amusements and amorous verses." (Michel de Montaigne) |