‘Twas the night before solstice and all through the co-op

Not a creature was waking the calm status quo up.

The offspring were nestled all snug in their environmentally friendly beds,

Dreaming of lentils and warm whole-grain breads.

We’d welcomed the winter that day after school

By dancing and drumming and burning the Yule,

A more meaningful gesture to honor the planet

Than buying more trinkets for Mom or for our dear Aunt Janet,

Or choosing a tree just to murder and stump it

And dress it all up like a ghastly seasonal strumpet.

My lifemate and I, having turned down the heat,

Slipped under the hemp-strewn covers for a well-deserved sleep,

When from out on the lawn there came such a roar

I fell from my futon and rolled onto the floor.

I crawled to the window and pulled back the latch,

And muttered, "Where is that damned Neighborhood Watch?"

I saw there below me in the darkness of night

A sleigh and eight reindeer of non-standard height.

At the reins of that sleigh sat a mean-hearted knave

Who treated each deer like his personal slave.

I’d seen him before in some ads for car loans,

And outside the mall hawking fast food and cell phones.

He must have cashed in from his mercantile chores,

Since self-satisfaction just oozed from his pores.

He called each of the fawn by name, as if he were right

To treat them like humans, inflicting his might:

"Now Donner, now Blitzen," and other such aliases,

Showing his true Euro-centrical biases.

With a snap of his fingers, away they all flew

Like lumberjacks served up a plate of hot tofu.

Up to the rooftop they carried the sleigh

Which reminds me to file suit – the holes in the shingles are there to this day.

Out bounded the man, who went straight to the flue.

I knew in an instant just what I should do.

I slipped on my Birkenstocks and I did dash

To see the vile trespasser emerge from the ash.

His clothes were all covered with soot, but of course,

From our wood-fueled alternative energy source.

Through the grime I could just barely distinguish his duds

He was dressed all in fur – fairly dripping with blood.

"We belong to PETA!" I proclaimed with such heat

He was startled and tripped on the logs at his feet.

He stood back up dazed, but with uncomfortable mirth in his eyes.

It was then that I noticed his unhealthy size.

He was almost as wide as when standing erect,

A lover of fatty fried foods and chocolate cake, I suspect.

But that wasn’t all to make sane persons choke:

In his teeth sat a pipe that was belching out smoke!

I could scarcely believe what had invaded our house

This commercialized, carcinogenic and overweight louse

Was so red in the face from his high blood pressure and all the energy spent,

I half expected some sort of pulmonary or even coronary event.

Behind him he toted a red velvet bag

Full to the brim with sinister swag.

He asked, "Where is your tree?" with a face somewhat long.

I said, "Out in the yard, which is where it belongs."

"But where will I put all the presents I’ve brought?"

I looked at him squarely and said, “You’ve the wrong house – we celebrate that holiday naught.

Take those abominations of capitalism to people who think that they need

To succumb to the sickness of commerce and greed,

Whose only joy comes from the act of consuming,

Thus sending the stock of the rich retailers booming."

He blinked and said, "Ho, ho, ho! You MUST be kidding."

I gave him a stare that was stern and forbidding.

"Surely the children need something with which to have fun?

With a parental unit like you, it’s like childhood’s over before it’s begun."

He looked in my eyes for some sign of assent,

But I strengthened my will and refused to relent.

"They have plenty of fun," I cut to the gist,

"And your mindless distractions have never been missed.

They take CPR so that they can save lives,

And go door-to-door for the used clothing drives.

They recycle, renew, reuse — and reveal

Saving the planet – now that’s a laudable zeal.

When they padlock themselves to protest against nuclear proliferation,

We think to ourselves – what a wonderful new generation.”

He said, "But they’re children — when do they play?"

I countered, "Is that why you’ve driven your sleigh,

To bring fleeting joy to the hearts of each child and tot?

All right, open your bag – let’s see what monstrosities you’ve got."

He sheepishly did as I’d asked and behold!

A Malibu Barbie in a skirt made of gold.

"You think that my girls will like playing with this,

An icon of sexist, consumerist kitsch?

"With its unnatural shape and air-headed grin,

This trollop makes every girl yearn to be thin,

And take up fad diets and bingeing and purging

Instead of using fiber and respecting her own body’s urging.

"To welcome the shape that her body has found

And rejoice to be lanky, short, skinny, or round."

Deep in his satchel he searched for a toy,

Saying, "This is a hit with most little boys."

And what did he put in my trembling hand

But a toy gun from the GI Joe Power Command!

"I bet it’s a hit with Republican progeny," I sneered in his face,

"And a plague to infect the whole human race!”

I seized on his bag just to see for myself –

The filth being spread by this odious elf.

An Easy-Bake Oven – oh my, what perfidy!

To brainwash young girls into household captivity!

Plus an archery play set with shafts that fly out –

The very thing needed to put one’s eye out.

And toy metal tractors, steam shovels, and cranes

For tearing down woodlands and scarring the plains

There were cretinist “games" like Monopoly, PayDay and Tycoon,

As if lessons in capitalist greed can’t start up too soon.

All I could find in that red velvet sack –

Perverseness and mayhem to set us all back.

"We need none of this," I announced in a huff,

"No ‘business-as-usual’ holiday stuff.

"We sow in our offspring more virtue than this.

Your ‘toys’ offer some things they never will miss."

The big man’s expression was a trifle bereaved,

As he shouldered his pack and got ready to leave.

He muttered:  "I pity the kids who grow up around here,

Who are never permitted to be of good cheer,

Who aren’t allowed leisure for leisure’s own sake,

But must fret every minute  – it makes my heart break!"

I snarled: "Enough histrionics! Don’t pity our kids

If they don’t do as Macy’s or Toys ‘R’ Us bids.

They live by their principles first and foremost

And they know what’s important," to him did I boast.

He asked “Could I meet them?" and I informed him: "Oh no, they’re not here.

They’re up on the roof, liberating your deer!"

Then Santa Claus sputtered and pointed his finger

But, mad as he was, he had no time to linger.

He flew up the chimney like smoke from a fire,

And up on the roof I heard voices get higher.

I ran outside the co-op to see him react

To my children’s responsible, kindhearted act.

He chased them away, disheartened and dismayed,

He then re-hitched his reindeer who had foolishly stayed.

I watched with delight as he scooted off then.

He’d be too embarrassed to come back here again.

With parting disdain, do you know what he said –

When this overweight huckster took off in his sled?

This reindeer enslaver and exploiter of elves?

"Happy Christmas to all – and get over yourselves!!"

(Loosely based on Politically Correct Holiday Stories by James Finn Garner)