Jack Blanchard’s Christmas Column
A Crabby Little Christmas
Starflakes were falling. The moonlight was dreamy.
The snow was all drifty, and tasted whip creamy
Toyland was singing on this Christmas Eve.
Santa’s sleigh was all packed up and ready to leave.
“The big rush is over!”, I heard an elf shout.
They gathered together as Santa came out.
The boss shook each hand as he passed through the group.
Mrs. Santa appeared with a thermos of soup.
“Ho ho”, laughed the chief, as he thanked every one
“for your loyal support, and a job so well done.”
He climbed to the cockpit. “Let’s rock!” he cried.
The reindeer all giggled till they nearly died.
He tucked in the blanket along by his knees,
And took aim at the Milky Way over the trees.
There was shouting and waving and kisses goodbye.
He fastened his seatbelt and soared to the sky.
The crowd went inside to get out of the weather.
Time for the annual Elf Get-together.
All except one, who just slouched on a stump,
Crabby Bassnaster, the neighborhood grump.
“What is it, Crabby”, asked toymaker Spiro?
“We do the work”, he crabbed. “Santa’s the hero.”
“Merry Christmas, big deal”, and “Humbug”, he said.
“Just put it into my paycheck instead.”
Back to the workshop he stumped with a grumble,
grumping back over his shoulder to mumble:
“Land, if there’s one thing that I jes’ cain’t take,
it’s singin’ an’ dancin’, an’ ice cream an’ cake!”
Toyland was darkened, and spookily still.
Not a sound of a hammer, much less a drill.
Rumble and grumble, he slumped through the halls,
Even his shadow looked sad on the walls.
By the light on his workbench he fumed and he fussed,
brushing away at a small speck of dust.
“One more ‘ho-ho’ from jolly ol’ Santa,
And I’m gonna pack an’ go back to Atlanta.
Sweeping the floor in a circle of light,
He saw something shiny there, off to the right.
“A leftover present? How can that be?
How come these troubles all happen to me?”
Tied with a ribbon and stuck with a pearl,
the card was addressed:” To a good little girl”.
“The name an’ address are marked here inside,
so it looks like I’m in for a cold midnight ride.”
He hitched up the sleigh for the unscheduled run.
“The work of a pore elf jes’ ain’t never done.”
(Later that Christmas Eve…)
“Now, let me see, this looks like the house.
I hope I don’t stir up no critter nor mouse.”
Then from the roof, down the chimney he slid.
“They ain’t makin’ chimleys the way that they did.”
There by the fire a little girl sat.
“Jes’ what I need, a wide awake brat.”
She said, “Are you Santa”? He seemed sort of scarey.
“Do bloodshot eyes twinkle? Is my nose a cherry?
No, I’m just a gopher, a regular jerk.
He gets the glory, an’ we do the work.”
“I love you”, she melted. “You ARE kinda cute!’
His face turned as red as his little red suit.
“I just couldn’t sleep. I was feeling so bad.
It’s my first Christmas Eve away from my dad.”
Suddenly sobbing and snurfing and sighing.
Could all of that racket be Bassnaster crying?
He gave her the gift, and he kissed her goodbye,
With almost a twinkle in one teary eye.
Up to the rooftop, and into the sleigh,
He cranked up the reindeer and roared them away.
“Back to the party! Les move this ol’ crate!
I better not miss out on ice cream an’ cake!”
And, I heard him shout, as he dropped ‘er in gear,
“Merry Christmas, y’all, and a Happy New Year!”
Copyright © Jack Blanchard 2005, 2014.