Tales of Boss Claus, Volume One

The beginning . . .

“Wake up, old fart.
It’s time to start.
Off, the night shirt.
Not time to flirt!”

Chortling, Boss Claus
Stepped in his draw’s’.
Bridgette, his bride,
Watched him with pride.

“You’re just too cute,
In your red suit.
Cheeky, it’s true;
But, I love you.”

“Just wait, my dear,
Be of good cheer.
When this page’s curled,
Gon’ rock your world.”

all alone
it stands

bright red with
runners

frosted with fierce
cold

beside warm rein
deer stalls

- a tip of the hat to William Carlos Williams and his red wheelbarrow poem.

all alone
it waits

bright red with
runners

frosted with fierce
cold

beside warm rein
deer stalls



- edit

His beard foreshadows him
his belly silhouettes him
his mirth bears delight.

With toil ‘neath the midnight sun,
The elves were finally done.
Under the watchful eye,
The old jolly guy,
They filed home for holiday fun.

No one has seen the elves dance.
No, not one single glance.
But their boisterous song,
Sung the night long,
Makes any passing reindeer prance

This one night’s merriment’s all.
Then it’s back to the work hall.
Where new technology,
Old time sorcery
And love helps them heed the call.

They trekked in from the vast white land. Out there, with far ranging herds of reindeer, the Christmas team spends the year. Dasher led them to the stables, to await the harness for Santa’s trip. Nowhere to be seen was Rudolph. They knew better than to worry, for he often straggled up at the last minute. Still, Vixen allowed himself to become annoyed, this as in every year.
“Where is that prima donna? I would hitch him in the back, where the smell ain’t so sanitary. And, why not? The weather’s clear. We don’t need that schnoz tonight. We look like clowns since he made the team.”
Dancer made a face, before nuzzling in the grain for a bit of last minute sustenance.
Vixen tossed his head. “I saw that. Snickering. Well, I’m calling you on it this time.”
Dancer backed away. “I - I don’t want this. Come on. We’ll wait for Santa. Quietly.”
But Vixen would have none of it. He swiped an antler across the other reindeer’s buttocks.
“Ow. Hey, that hurts.”
The reluctant and the aggressor, they squared off.
Before either could charge, their six companions swarmed in between.
“Hey, you don’t want to do that.”
“Come on, fellas. Cool it.”
Vixen moved to the antler polish dispenser, swooshing his about before allowing the attendant elf to go to work on them. He had gotten the nervousness out of his system and from now would be all right the rest of the night.
Dancer shamefacedly approached his best friend, Cupid. Together they went to the feed bin and dug in.
“Okay, boys. The sleigh’s loaded and ready.”
It was Callaway, the head stable elf.
The eight reindeer lined up, eager to serve. Callaway and his helpers expertly fastened them in. Then Callaway turned to Dasher. “Rudolph is cutting it too close for comfort. Once Santa Claus gets it in gear, it’s time to go, no matter what. Timing, as we all are aware, is everything.”
“Oh, I should have put a hobble on him. He has gotten quite wild in his older age. Ever since that - that beast took his mate, and made her his dinner -”
“We all are in sympathy, but Rudolph’s got to pull himself together.”
And then, the glow off his red nose told one and all that Rudolph had arrived. He glided down, until his hoofs hit the powdery snow, then pranced up to the lead position. He looked around at his fellow reindeer, by way of greeting. He shied a bit from Callahan’s small hands, but in the end was harnessed and ready.
There was an air of expectancy that hung over the assembled elves and reindeer. It was time for Santa.
TIME FOR SANTA!

He moved like an athlete at the scene.
Since meeting Bridgette he’d gotten really ripped.
His coat sagged. He was all long and lean.

The elves were like a sea around him,
He did a boogie until they really flipped.
How they loved their Santa now so trim.

He climbed in and he waved from the sleigh.
He sat back laughing, with the reins in his grip.
“Ha, reindeer!” They were off and away.

Wouldn’t you want to ride in his sleigh?
Wouldn’t you fly off and away?
Surfing the night,
Stars huge and bright,
Circling the globe in just one day.

Wouldn’t you want to ride in his sleigh?
Wouldn’t you fly fly fly away?
Bringing the joy.
Each girl and boy.
Bringing it all in just one day.

When the little tiny children play
They’ll be singing just to pass the day
They’ll be chanting for their Santa
From Alaska to Atlanta
And here’s what the children say

Santa Santa Santa
Please come to Alabama
That’s what the children say
Santa Santa Santa
From Nebraska to Pacoima
Hurry cause it’s Christmas Day

Santa Santa Santa
Please come to Lo’siana
That’s what the children say
Santa Santa Santa
From Topeka to Montana
Hurry cause it’s Christmas Day

Yep. That’s what good little children sing. And when they get tucked in for the night, they know Santa’s going to fill their stockings with all kinds of nice things. They get to bed feeling somewhat restless, but they sleep well. It’s called the sleep of the righteous.

But, what about bad little children? Well - They don’t sing at all.

Bad little children go to their night’s rest all grumpy. They suspect - rightfully so - that Santa’s going to skip them. If they are extra bad, he might stop in. To leave a rock, or lump of coal. He might leave them a smelly sock, or hickory sticks in place of candy.

That’s what all are expecting. Except:

When little children sleep, all the naughty goes away. By Christmas morning, there are no bad little children. They all join in the singing:

Santa Santa Santa
Thank you dear old Santa
That’s what the children say
Santa Santa Santa
Thank you in my pajamas
Thank you cause it’s Christmas Day

Well, when Mose Haphart sprung from the jail,
He promised the bondsman he’d be good for the bail.
He stole a bottle from a crocked wino on the curb.
Then, drinking, went strolling through the burb.

The squalor Mose called home had one light,
A dim yellow one that glimmered in early night.
He called to his wife to open the door or else,
Then, cursing, knocked that thing off the nails.

The neighbors cowered, locking all the locks.
But Mose gave not a damn about those silly focks.
He ordered some food and that old crazy sinner
Managed to eat the Christmas dinner.

He sent his wife to the store for some beer,
For he was ready to enjoy his Christmas cheer.
He stumbled on the tree and he made it fall down.
Then he saw his child in her night gown.

The light framed her fair hair in a halo,
And she looked like an angel in that murky glow.
She sighed, wiping sleep from her sleepy little eyes;
Moment before something precious dies.

Mose brushed her aside and went for his gun.
He sat on the couch, waiting for Santa to come.
“Go to bed and don’t let me see you tonight.
Tomorrow will be cheery and bright.”

His wife found the child on the floor, weeping.
“Hush, dear, I know you’re sad, but you must get sleeping.”
“But, Daddy’s going to shoot and rob Santa Claus.”
They watched the clock, ticking without pause.

A Goth's Sense of Christmas
Leather trimming
surrounds black-red fur
this latest revision,
spiked from toe to neck,
isn't your child's Santa.
Cthulhu is expecting coalful mirth
tainted with an ashen toy or two.
© S. Atwood 09 Dec. 09

a sad little santa
sat on the curb
he mourned the banner
do not disturb

strung on cynical hearts
lashed to trees for storms
embossed on enemas
tums literary forms

the sad little santa
began to sing
in voice of eddie cantor
sinatra elvistheking

peace on earth
all who believe
i love your worth
who disbelieve

And so Santa came into the ragtag old home and busied himself in the shambles of the tree, attempting to make something of Christmas for a dysfunctional family of three.
BOOM BOOM BOOM
There was a splattering of red and the old gentleman was gone. His magical bag of gifts was instantly turned to empty burlap. Eight startled reindeer dragged the sled away in terror-stricken flight. They came home with the riderless sled, to a weeping population, of elves and one heart-broken Bridgette Claus. The sled was burned in a funeral type pyre and the flames were fed for twelve months.
Came the next December, and the Christmas Land complex was paved over. An electronics factory filled the space once occupied by shops and warehouses. The elves were never seen again by mortal persons.