'Twas the Night Before Christmas - Joker Style
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the yard,
Not an object was swaying, for the wind blew not hard.
The lights were hung on the roof way up there,
In hope that the neighbors would grumble and glare.
The pumpkins were gone all replaced by snow heads,
While the wind blew sharp frost, to the door I was led.
And the house in its ornaments, and I in my coat,
Had one thing in common, some plum and a joke.
When out from the distance arouse such a siren,
I sprang through the door, so fast nearly flying.
Away to the kitchen I hopped like a hare,
Tore open the fridge and ate what was there.
The moon high in the sky it glowed,
Through the window illuminating the objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a honey glazed ham on the counter, oh dear!
With a spring in my step and a stomach like a pit,
I proceeded to wolf down every single bit.
More frantic than starved mice my eyes did they scan,
The whole moonlit living room, and the tree by the fan.
"Now what a tall and wide thing you are!
A tree such as your self should be bright as a star!
Away from that unflattering fan I'll pull,
And set you ablaze! A fire for the fools!"
In flames up it went like dry leaves in the cold,
But then that's what it was, or so I was told.
To the door left wide open I merrily skipped,
Pulled a card from my pocket and dropped it with a flick.
And then through the roars of the heated flames,
A snap and a click, from the window he came!
As I slipped into the yard, still quiet, undisturbed
I heard a crash and a growl, this man, how absurd!
The man donned in black from his head to his foot,
I imagined no difference when covered in soot.
From my spot by a tree some ways from the wreck,
He burst out heroically, two bodies in check.
His judgment- so righteous! His sense, so lacking.
Did he not know of the girl inside hacking?
To the street he marched with his saved in tow,
Where the engines sat waiting awestruck by the show.
The fire raged on not yet ceased by the law,
For the hydrant I knew would take hours to thaw.
As I chuckled and laughed on the cold icy ground,
I was vaguely aware of the house now a mound.
Now on my side the wind became colder,
And flew over my head as I watched the wood smolder.
With my smile stretched wide and paint frozen stiff,
I couldn't help wonder of that jolly old myth.
A man aged thousands, filled with nothing but cheer?
Surly the creators head wound was severe.
The thought discarded, the wonder dispersed,
I picked myself up, no longer immersed.
And as I walked off, the night still assured,
I said to myself: "Third tonight, I'm still bored!"
Just a poem inspired by, what else? "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" Heh, I like it.
Important message for all who are reading the following stories of mine:
Sadistic Clowns are Bad for Your Health
The White Devil
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