• Published a book you want to tell us about? Uploaded a YouTube video you want to share?

    Normally you'll need 100 posts to self-promote, but with an upgraded membership you can do so with your first post.

    Find out more here: Become a Supporting Member

A festive tale... possibly

Luiglin

by day Stuart Orford by night Dark Lord's scribe
Joined
Mar 22, 2012
Messages
1,733
Location
Mercia, UK
Mods... not sure where this could go so please move if needed.

The Dark Lord receives a visit from St. Nicholas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the blockhouse
All the creatures were stirring, even the damned mouse;

The traps were all set throughout with care,
In hopes that the St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The goblins nestled all hidden beneath their beds,
While visions of rotten plums turned rancid in their heads,

And Minion in his cowl, and I in my steel cap,
Were selecting our weapons in readiness for a scrap —

When out in the courtyard there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the dread bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the dark portal I flew like a flash,
Chanted the spell, and threw up the bone ash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
Gave a horrible lustre of mid-day to objects in show;

When, what to my watering eyes should appear,
But an armoured sleigh, and eight war reindeer,

With an ominous driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than orcs his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name:

"Now! Dasher, now! Dancer, now! Prancer and Vixen,
"On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Donder and Blitzen;

"To the top of the tower! To the top of the castle wall!
"Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As leaves of flayed skin that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the keep-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of weapons — and St. Nicholas too:

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each damn little hoof.

As I dispelled the dark portal, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound:

He was dress'd all in bits of fur, nearly naked from his head to his foot,
And those bits of clothes were all tarnish'd with blood and soot;

A veritable armoury was hung on his back,
He was the stereotypical barbarian, the normal maniac:

His eyes — how they narrowed! His scars: how menacing,
His cheeks marked with dried blood, his nose twitched a reckoning;

His frostbitten lips were drawn up in a snarl,
Twisting the beard of his chin which looked entirely banal;

The blade of a dagger he held tight in his teeth,
The pommel of it in the shape of a funeral wreath.

He had a weather worn face, and a muscled belly
His aroma though was quite off, indeed, very smelly:

He was tall and solid, a right hardened nut,
We were ready though to kick his barbarian butt.

A wink of his eye and a crick of his neck,
This wouldn’t be a dance in some discotheque.

With a guttural growl he went straight to his work,
Lashing out with horrid hammer and deadly dirk,

The Minion struck a blow that took off his nose
Whilst I swung low and sliced off a few toes.

He sprung back to the chimney with a piercing scream
But fell afoul of Norman with his two-by-four beam:

We heard him exclaim, ere he fell outright —
Cursed Christmas to you all, and to all a damned night.
 

ratsy

www.scifiexplorations.com
Joined
Jul 24, 2008
Messages
4,644
Luglin, that is good stuff!

I wrote this for my 75 word challenge but couldn't get it pared down enough


Twas the night before Xmas, when all through the village
Not a robot was stirring, not even to pillage
The airships were parked by the river with care
In hopes that St Gearbot soon would be there

The children were nestled in vests and strange eyewear
While visions of killer cogged toys gave them a scare
Doctor Springs in his goggles and I in my cap
Had just wound our brains down for a long winter’s nap
 

Luiglin

by day Stuart Orford by night Dark Lord's scribe
Joined
Mar 22, 2012
Messages
1,733
Location
Mercia, UK
That's spot on ratsy. Pity you couldn't get it down but sometimes doing that only ruins it.

I'm now waiting for a seasonal 583 word comp ;)
 

Alex The G and T

Thar! That Blows.
Joined
Jan 25, 2012
Messages
2,351
Location
Extremely Northern California
Jolly Good, you two.

Puts me in the mind of a rough yuletide I once endured. The former Mrs didn't get along very well with my mother, you see. But we're all much happier now.

Let's sing something, shall we?

No Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Gawd help ye weary Gentlemen, it's time to run away
Mother's come a-visiting a week 'fore Chrismas Day
She's bearing loads of heavy baggage, there's tens of years to pay

And She's lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And She's lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.

There is no room for Mother, in a house which has a wife,
The sub-text is so horrible you can cut it with a knife
There's no way out, tradition says, that there must always be strife

And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.

Guests stink like fish after three days; so better stay a week
The guard is up in just three hours; seeking out a reek
No time to waste, the war begins. Oh God we're up the Creek.

And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.

The Harlot's stealing Mother's Son like a midnight burg-u-lar
Mother wants to steal the kids and take them off afar
But she'll probably lose her mind again and beat them with a bar

And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.

The wife is ready for defense, let nothing be uncruel
There's nothing anyone can say to make her keep her cool
She knows that even the nicest words, are an underhanded tool

And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.

Oh, foolish man don't even try to make sense of the strife
The weapons that these women use are worse than any knife
And if you try to understand; entanglements spring rife.

And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.

The prudent Gent is already more than halfway to the car
'Cause if he speaks he'll only bring, upon himself the war
Perhaps he can preserve himself by hiding at a bar

And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.
 

Droflet

I don't teach chickens how to dance.
Joined
Apr 15, 2010
Messages
2,857
Location
Australia
I think the ghost of Christmas future just rolled over in his grave. Nicely done lads.
 
Top