A Crumbly Christmas Story

It was a crumbly evening

I trekked through crumbly snow

Scented crumbly singing

Twas going with the flow

I peered through the milky butter

A figure moved with grace

Clutching throngs of rusty cats

Crumbling beard upon his face

I approached with similar caution

A crumbly bauble in my hand

I waited for a clearer view

And threw it at the man

It landed with a hiss

Knocking Christmas down

Rusty kittens smeared on butter

Red, green, white and brown

The man was very angry

Bits of bauble in his leg

Inaudible Christmas language:

“aaah….ya… sneernen…floonen…screg…”

Of course! I thought

He’s been on the drink

I prodded his face

And gave a wink

He groaned some more

But soon went silent

Lying upon the crumbly floor

His boots intense and violent

The man then crumbled into dust

The red suit began to fade

“Oh hell, did I kill Santa Claus?”

I said, spotting his sleigh.

The rusty kittens beckoned me

In a crisp and crumbly manner

So I approached the sleigh with them

With a soft yet crumbly hammer

The evidence was destroyed that day

And billions of children cried

For no presents were given then

After Father Christmas died


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s