Happy day-after-Christmas, friends! Hope you all had a lovely day, and if you don’t celebrate, I hope you’re having a wonderful holiday season. My husband and I had QUITE the eventful first-Christmas-in-our-new-house, as in we didn’t actually get to spend it there. Total bummer. 

We realized on Christmas Eve night—just as we were about to walk out the door to go to a family party—that we weren’t getting enough gas into our house. The dish I was baking, well, wasn’t, the temperature in the house had dropped, etc. etc. etc. So we called our gas company, and they said they’d send a technician out…in 2-4 hours. I went to the party to escape the cold, and hubby stayed to welcome the tech. (He did make it later, however—thank goodness!)

Long story short, there’s no gas pressure coming to our meter, and they think there’s water in the line from all the rain we had the other day. (And, oh yeah, our basement flooded. Fun times to wake up to! Ahh, the joys of home ownership… Our belongings are fine, though. Small miracles.) SO today the gas company is ripping up the street, running new pipe, and hopefully NOT taking out part of our wall to access our part of the pipe. Fingers crossed!

With all of this hullabaloo and no heat, however, we didn’t get to sleep or wake up in our house on Christmas morning, which we were both looking forward to. Which is a little sad, but things happen, and we thankfully had many offers of places to stay. We wound up at my brother-in-law’s house, which is the closest to our place of the rest of the family. I’m thankful to the outpouring of love and support we received, and we had a wonderful Christmas in spite of this bit of a hiccup.

In the vein of Christmases gone awry, I have a new story to share with all of you! For the writing stream I take part in, Scott Wilson created an anthology based around the theme “A Post-Apocalyptic Christmas.” Given my own slightly-apocalyptic Christmas, I thought I’d share it today!

I wrote a parody version of “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” more colloquially known as “’Twas the Night Before Christmas,” post-apocalyptic-style. It was an immense amount of fun to write, despite all the hard work it took to carry over as much of the original as I could, make the rhyme and meter work, and carry it through to having an actual story and not just a pale imitation of the original. Scott generously worked through the edits with me. One of my favorite sessions was the back-and-forth we had from 3 am to 5 am one night. As he lives in Japan and is 13 hours ahead of me here in good ol’ New Jersey, late nights were the only time to talk directly! I woke up to use the bathroom and thought, “Hmm, Scott is probably awake and working on this now. Why don’t I go on and see?” I did; he was; we had a two-hour cram-editing session before I gave up and went back to sleep. 

This is the kind of stuff that makes my world go ‘round.

SO, without further ado, here is the full text of my poem. Feel free to download the pdf in all its illustrated glory and read the stories by the other contributors here. Enjoy! 

“’Twas a Post-Apocalyptic Christmas”

’Twas a post-apocalyptic Christmas and all through the bomb shelter,

Not a person was at peace; we were all helter-skelter. 

The explosives were hung outside in the air

By incoming aircraft, then dropped without care.

Tucked away dark in our underground basement,

We tried to forget our horrid displacement.

Our children were nestled in a corner to rot,

Their lives so fragile, their chances were shot.

And my wife in her radiation suit and I in my mask

Had settled our brains for the arduous task

Of staying down here till we died of starvation.

I dreamed of food in my growing frustration.

When up on the surface there arose such a clatter,

I jumped out of my skin when I heard pitter-patter. 

Away to the doorway I flew like an aircraft,

Tore open the blast door, and crawled up the shaft.

The smog and debris from the air-raid patrols

Made me tear at the sight of no living souls.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear

But a red-and-gold sleigh—and eight yummy reindeer!

With a rotund old driver so meaty and thick,

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

I jumped in a bush as he turned right around,

And down the shaft St. Nicholas went with a bound.

When he vanished underground into our asylum

I called to the reindeer, hoping not to rile ‘em.

“Here, Dasher! Here, Dancer! Here Prancer and Vixen!

Come, Comet! Come, Cupid! Come, Donner and Blitzen!”

So tasty they looked, my stomach growled in glee.

But the reindeer, they heard it, and then they did flee.

I called after them as they flew from their plight:

“Don’t dash! Don’t leave! I just want a small bite!”

Over the airplanes, the reindeer they flew

With a sleigh full of toys—and my salvation, too.

I returned underground, grieving my lost snack,

When I saw St. Nicholas opening his pack.

He was chubby and plump, a delicious old elf,

And I salivated when I saw him, in spite of myself.

He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

His eyes looked like blueberries, his skin white as dairy!

His cheeks were like dumplings, his nose like a cherry!

In my hunger-crazed state my heart started to quicken

As I saw myself snapping his head like a chicken.

I leaped on the man and twisted his head,

And St. Nicholas fell to the ground, cold and dead.

As my family screamed out horrified cries

I looked at St. Nick with sobered-up eyes

I was suddenly hit with the grim realization

That I’d killed our last hope with a head dislocation.

His bag fell open, its contents released:

Not toys nor presents, but a great Christmas feast.

A note was tied up on a mouth-watering goose:

“Happy Christmas to all! Enjoy the chocolate mousse.”

Hope you all enjoyed reading that as much as I did writing it! What Christmas/holiday stories do you have that can qualify as apocalyptic? Share in the comments below, and let’s commiserate!