The Night Before (Series)

The Night Before Part I: A Facebook Christmas

By G Quick (2009)

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, and all through facebook,
Not a user was online… except for one sook.
The man sipped his coffee as he ‘Poked’ and ‘Liked’ comments,
While he downloaded South Park from various torrents.
He was staying up late so, his kids, he could trick,
Into thinking they’d been visited by jolly old St. Nick.
He’d just been inspired to update his status,
When he heard a strange noise, out back, on the lattice.
Peering out the window, he was shocked by the sight,
Of a chubby old burglar, scaling his wall in the night.
To be honest, it struck him as somewhat weird,
For the crook to be wearing a red suit and beard,
But he paid little heed and flew into action,
And fell down the stairs when he slipped and lost traction.
He grabbed his old bat, from his baseballing days,
Rushing out the back door and into the haze.
“Ho, ho, ho!” said the crim, as the man swung his bat.
“Merry Christm-Ugh!”… And his fat head went ‘Splat!’
He shook like jelly and fell to the ground,
Where he lay, unmoving, and made not a sound.
The man rolled him over… And went into a fit!
“Oh no! It’s Santa!… I’ve killed him! Oh S**t!”
Dropping the bat, in a whirlwind of panic,
He ran straight to the shed. His mental state; manic.
He rummaged around and pulled out a spade.
Then buried the jolly corpse in the hole that he made.
Donning the suit and grabbing the sack,
He ran to the sleigh, without looking back.
“There’s still hope yet kids. I’ll save Christmas, see.”
“Kris Kringle may be dead, but at least you have me!”
Alright you lot!” he said to the baffled reindeer.
“Let’s get in the air and spread some good cheer.”
“Now, Henry! Now, Harold! Now, Alfred and James!”
“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve forgotten your names.”
“On, Astro! On, Jensen! Don’t mean to be rude,”
“Take off now or you’ll all be dog food!”
As they took to the air, he let out a shout.
“Merry Christmas to… Crap! I forgot to sign out!”

The Night Before Part II: A Twitter Christmas

By G Quick (2010)

‘Twas the night before Christmas and Santa was dead,
His sleigh; being flown by a stranger instead,
The man whimpered softly as he rubbed on his shirt,
Cleaning his hands of the blood, mud and dirt.
“What will I tell my poor son and daughter?”
“That their father is guilty of jolly, old manslaughter?”
He assured himself, “No! They must never find out.”
“I’ll save Christmas, kids, but you’d better look out!”
“This sleigh doesn’t drive like my trusty old Ford…”
He said, as he stared at the instrument board.
‘Reindeer-Yaw Toggles’ and ‘Sleigh-Pitch Reductions’,
“Surely this thing has a set of instructions…!?”
He fumbled around in Santa’s red jacket,
Finding some milk and an old cookie packet,
When what should fall out and into his lap?
But Santa’s iPhone, with installed Twitter app!
He tied up the reins to a loop at his feet,
And, with frantic thumbs, typed out a rough tweet.
“Does anyone know how to fly this damn sleigh?”
“It’s hard to explain and I don’t have all day…”
“… But due to a somewhat unfortunate blunder,”
“Our friend Santa Claus is, well, six feet under…”
“… So help if you can, but to add to the stress,”
“You’re stuck with one-forty characters or less!”
A reply came through, with hardly a pause,
A curious tweet from TheReal_MrsClaus:
“@BigRed1 Who is this? What’s the matter?”
“I can’t make sense of your irrational chatter.”
He replied “Sorry miss, but you’ll just have to trust,”
“When I tell you that Santa, alas, bit the dust…”
“… It’s my fault. You see, he caught me off-guard,”
“And I killed him and buried his corpse in the yard.”
“Oh, don’t be daft, son. You can’t kill Saint Nick,”
“My fat, jolly husband’s a resilient old prick!”
“@TheReal_MrsClaus, but I saw his life fade,”
“When I caved in his skull with a large metal spade!”
She replied “Ha! Is that all? You thought he was dead?”
“You’d best turn back home and return the man’s sled.”
Astonished, the man picked up the reins,
Made a sharp U-turn and dodged a few planes.
He headed back home at extreme velocity,
To attempt to reverse his festive atrocity.
He had major doubts that upon his arrival,
He would find any signs of Santa’s survival,
But lo and behold when he finally landed,
He found Santa! Living! Buck-naked and stranded.
“I’m so sorry Santa…” He began to explain,
But to his surprise Saint Nick didn’t complain.
“Forget it,” he said, his face covered in grime,
“To tell you the truth, this is not the first time.”
“I’ve been shot ten times in one night alone,”
“My wife is convinced that I’m accident prone.”
“Now let’s get going, or we’ll run out of night!”
“You load up the sleigh, I’ll prepare it for flight.”
“I could do with some help, that’s if you don’t mind,”
“Since your misled heroics have put me behind.”
So they took to the air, to deliver all the presents,
In the dead of the night, to the world’s adolescents.
The man saw on Twitter while the sleigh was ascending,
Worldwide the hashtag #deadsanta was trending.
He tapped out a quick tweet “Santa’s alive!”
“I thought he was dead but it seems he’s revived.”
“We’ve got a sack full of dolls, toys, books and sweaters.”
“Merry Christmas to” “Crap! I’ve run out of letters!”

The Night Before Part III: A Myspace Christmas

By G Quick (2011)

…

The Night Before Part IV: A Viral Christmas

By G Quick (2011)

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, and almost the day,
When we rejoined our duo, airborne, in the sleigh.
There sat the man, who we’ve grown to know well,
And beside him sat Santa (both starting to smell).
The night had been long and rather chaotic,
The gunk in their armpits was antibiotic.
But they couldn’t stop yet, there was much to be done,
And they had to keep pace, to stay ahead of the Sun.
They’d blasted through Oz then headed up North,
Breezed through Indonesia then, to Asia, set forth.
Checking off China was surprisingly easy,
‘Though the sweet ’n’ sour cookies made Santa feel queasy.
They flew gifts to India, and up to the ‘Stans,
Then doubled back East, since they’d forgotten Japan’s.
While over Russia the two both agreed,
To take a quick break so the Reindeer could feed.
They ran into trouble when exiting Greece,
When the sleigh’s fearsome turbines made a mess of some geese.
They visited all Europe’s young generations,
Then weaved their way down through the African nations.
There was no time to waste or to be too pedantic,
So they jetted off West across the rough South Atlantic.
Peru and Brazil, Argentina and Chile,
The going was tough, the terrain was all hilly.
They’d just passed the border of the United States,
When the pair found themselves in complete dire straits.
The reindeer and sleigh were stuck in a low hover,
Due to an unknown mechanical bother.
Santa leaned out the side and let out a groan,
When he saw the jets… caked in blood, beaks and bone.
“We’ll have to land here and sort out this jam,”
“I’ll get the tools, you setup the webcam.”
You see…
The man had become an unexpected celeb,
From the antics they’d posted all over the web.
They’d blogged over Brussels and Tumblr’d in Turkey,
Their YouTube exploits were always quite quirky.
With outrageous stunts and humorous banter,
And pics of a sandwich-eating “Sad Santa”
Out of control, their net fame did spiral,
Every uploaded vid was instantly viral.
In Cyprus they Skyped with Conan O’Brien,
Who was curious to know how their contraption was flyin’.
They chatted with Leno and Jonathan Ross,
And appeared in a charity ad for Red Cross.
A quick stint on Top Gear, then back on their way,
Just after a lap in a “Reasonably Priced Sleigh”.
By the time they were cruising just North of Zaire,
They had started a popular meme called “LOLdeer”.
The top post on Reddit now featured a photo,
Of Santa Claus, planking, two miles above Kyoto.
But for now their high jinks would be put on pause,
While the man laboured away beside Santa Claus
Re-tweaking turbines, securing struts,
And clearing the intakes of avian guts.
When they finally had the craft fixed and working,
At the horizon the Sun was now lurking.
“We’ll have to break from this comic behaviour,
If we hope to succeed and be Christmas’ saviour,
So let’s hop on board and launch this old sled.
Tonight let’s pwn Christmas, like a noob!” Santa said.
The twosome bumped fists then boarded the sleigh
And secured the gifts in the rear loading bay.
As they shot to the sky they recorded a vid:
“No need to fear, folks! We’re back on the grid!”
“We’re coming your way, but there’s no time to chat.”
“Merry Christmas to-“ “Crap!… The battery’s gone flat…”

The Night Before Part V (Finale): The Claus Identity

By G Quick (2012)

‘Twas the night before Christmas, well, at least in San Fran,
Not wherever Santa was, in a windowless van.
With a sack on his head and his hands bound in cuffs,
And held at gunpoint by four mask-wearing toughs.
Beside him, his companion, regretting that night,
When he’d assaulted Saint Nick in a mad state of fright.
If only he’d hid, and not been courageous,
They wouldn’t have been in a position so outrageous.
On their way to New York to check out the Mets,
They’d been forced to land by eight fierce fighter jets.
When they alighted the sleigh they’d been detained by ten,
Anonymous agents. Some kind of G-men.
He’d been gagged, bagged and bound, and thrown in the back,
Of the van with Saint Nick.
Then everything went black…

Bright lights…

Cold floor…

The man came around,

And saw Santa, sitting. Silent. Profound.
“What the hell’s going on!? How’d we get in this pinch!?”
Santa stared at the ground, and said one word…

“Grinch.”

It was then that the man became aware of the room,
A featureless, concrete, impenetrable tomb,
Where they’d been tossed to rot, for all that he knew
He seriously doubted, this time, they’d pull through.
“The Grinch!? What!? I thought they were feds!?”
“They are. Can’t you see? He’s infected their heads.”
“The most devious mind that the world’s ever known,”
“Every war ever fought, every king overthrown,”
“He’s pulled the strings and sown the seeds of fate.”
“The ultimate architect of sorrow, death, and hate.”
“Freemasons? Black Hand? The Bilderberg Group?”
“All under his spell or part of his troupe.’
“Technically? Yes, we’re detained by The States,”
“But I assure you, it’s the work of The Grinch and his mates.”
“Oh. God! We’re gonna die!” the panicked man sobbed.
“Be cool,” said Saint Nick “it’s all part of the job.”
“Now, follow my lead and we’ll get through this, bud.”
“I just hope you don’t mind the sight of some blood.”
And with that, he was up and onto his feet.
Claus crossed the room, not missing a beat,
And stood by the wall, just out of view,
Of the suits at the door, who were about to walk through.
He winked at the man, then swiftly attacked,
The first of the group, too slow to react.
The man watched, in awe of Santa’s Kung Fu,
As the jolly elf snapped a goon’s arm in two.
He swiped a pen from a young agent named Linus,
Then buried it, firmly, in the poor fellow’s sinus.
Kris Kringle grinned. A red ball of hell,
Gaining momentum as each agent fell.
One pulled out a gun, held tight in his fist,
Which Santa dismantled, with a flick of his wrist!
Within thirty seconds the tussle had ended,
Each well armed thug? Unconscious. Expended.
The man just stood there, dumbstruck by the brawlin’,
As Santa collected some guns from the fallen.
“Arm yourself.” Santa threw him a Glock,
Which he clumsily caught as he flinched from the shock.
“I can’t use a gun! I’m a regular dad!”
“I’m no killing machine! No hero! Are you mad!?”
Santa smiled at him and searched through his suit,
“I forgot! you’ve no knowledge that you’re a recruit.”
He pulled out a small heap of sparkling sand,
Blew it into the face of the man from his hand.
“You’re part of a clandestine sleeper-agent squad,”
“Codename: “Santa’s Lethal Helper”. I know it sounds odd,”
“But the fact that you’re here is no mere coincidence,”
You’ve been secretly coached in case of such incidence.”
“Every Christmas you’re exposed to subliminal training,”
“Pumped full of knowledge you’ve no idea you’re retaining.”
“A survivor, a slayer, a spy and detective.”
“It’s like MK-Ultra, except a little more… Festive?”
“How’d you think you were able to clock me last night?”
“You’ve been engineered to infiltrate and fight.”
The man felt the sand settle inside of his lungs,
And started to prattle, as if speaking in tongues,
Rattling off stats on intel and tradecraft,
And espionage. Santa looked on and laughed.
“Are you done? Don’t forget we’re still in a pickle!”
“Those bullets out there, I assure you, don’t tickle!”
The man cocked his gun. The pair burst out the door,
And quickly disarmed another twelve soldiers or more!
A cloud of jolly justice, they stormed down the hall,
Through each wave of thugs, dispatching them all.
Santa was stunned by the beast he’d begot.
With each wave of bullets, the man dodged the lot!
He closed the gap fast. Fought gracefully. Deft.
Shattering the bones of troops, right and left.
His expression was fixed; measured and cool.
He’d vanish! And then reappear like a ghoul.
They’d almost escaped when he noticed a gate,
“Santa! Get out before it’s too late!”
Santa dashed for the exit as the large gate descended,
But he saw his friend’s struggle had far from ended.
Saint Nick threw his pistol, shouted “Here take my gun!”
“The gate’s almost closed! Come on, damnit! RUN!”
His companion was stuck. Surrounded by men,
He cartwheeled out of the thick fray! And then,
Made a break for the gate. An impossible span!
A total blur! It was the fastest he ever ran!
The gate; almost closed. The gap: so minute.
The man took a chance. His timing: acute.
Firing off rounds, dual guns held akimbo,
He came jetting through the gap in a knee-sliding limbo!
The pair ran for a jeep, while bullets zipped past,
And took off, into the distance. To safety. At last.
Back to the sleigh (which was oddly unguarded),
They launched into the sky, they’re weapons discarded.
They flew home in silence. The two of them weary.
It wasn’t the time to be jovial or cheery.
The man thought it best that they keep things discreet,
So they landed the sleigh in a quiet, empty street.
He gave Santa a nod, and they bumped fists once more.
Their brotherly bond, forged through adventure and war.
He stepped from the sleigh and gave it a pat,
And smiled up to the seat where his pal, Santa, sat.
Saint Nick turned around, just before he took flight.

“Merry Christmas…” but the man had vanished from sight…