Blog # 11: the Xmas Blog

Blog # 11:  the Xmas Blog


The Bounty of Xmas


“No!  No!” said the preacher’s daughter;

“Don’t touch me there!  Don’t do it!  Don’t do it!”


But then we did it anyway—

in the rectory…


and I made her scream:

“Stop!  Stop, you freak!


Quit licking my eyes!!”

So I put my clothes on and left…


—And with the spring

there shall come the devils……



When My Xmas Goose is Cooked


“I jumped when I should have flown!

I ran—but I should have known…

you’d be eating me… for xmas…”


(Everybody sing!~)




Christmas Eve Eve


Her name was Eve, and she only came out at night—and then only on one night of the year, Christmas Eve…


She was tall and plain and… well, not so much chunky as solid—butt she had curves everywhere she needed them, and it wasn’t uncommon for gentleman passers-by to take a second glance.  Then again, that could have been the Christmas tree lights and ornaments draped about her person—though she preferred to believe it was she at whom they were glancing…


Eve was a lonely woman.  There was no getting around that.  But she tried to not let it get her down.  Through the year she held to her reclusive ways, rarely going out—and, when she was forced, being as unobtrusive as possible, always trying to blend into the woodwork and go unnoticed.  Then Christmas time would roll around, and she would don her gay apparel and wander the streets spreading good will and Yuletide cheer to any and all she encountered.  She spent the whole week prior to her annual outing baking hundreds of Christmas cookies—which she would then hand out to all the strangers she met.  And her friend Carol—who was also very shy, if not quite so much so as Eve—would often join her; as Christmas Eve offered up her cookies, plying her wares and spreading good cheer, Christmas Carol would serenade the strollers and shoppers with songs of the season.  Sometimes all the attention Carol got would make Eve angry—so angry she would begin to scream obscenities, tugging and tearing at her lights and ornaments in a maddened frenzy… for Eve was far from stable.  And then Carol would laugh and laugh—and sometimes she would point when she laughed, and she shouldn’t have done that, because that’s just mean!  And it would only serve to infuriate the unstable Christmas Eve all the more, ‘til she ran all about in a bleary-eyed, crimson haze of psychotic rage, chasing all the little children she thought might be Sugar Plum Faeries who she wanted to bite in half and then feed to rabid dogs in the street.  Fortunately, she would usually slip in the snow and ice, bludgeoning herself to unconsciousness on a dumpster or something, leaving the children and the world safe, with relatively few injuries to others over the years…


Then Christmas Carol would take Eve’s cookies and, while she sang her songs of love and hope and all things holy and righteous under Heaven and on Earth, she would pass them out as if they were her own—for Carol was kind of a bitch that way.  And when Eve would awaken Christmas morning, street people using her has a pillow and stray cats and dogs using her as a litter box (and oft times the other way about), she would drag herself to her feet—untangling her string of lights as best she could, brushing away the shards of broken ornaments from when she fell—and slowly make her way homeward.  Though, inevitably, she would stop by Carol’s apartment first, and she would throw a Molotov cocktail through the window to ignite the Christmas tree—but then she would continue on toward her lonely home, telling herself next year it would be different…




“Bona Saturnalia!~”


Bright, wintry blue skies above,

freshly fallen snow on the ground…

the xmas season aglow with peace and love

(except for all the violence and war and hate in the world, of course…)—

blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,



Bona Saturnalia, everybody!!~~~




Mush and Muck Christmas


Kill a reindeer,

painful and slow…

mush and muck—

Ho! Ho! Ho!



# # # #



—Mishka Zakharin  © 2014

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *