'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the shop,
The computers were whirring; they never do stop.
The power was on and the temperature right,
In hopes that the input would feed back that night.
The system was ready, the program was coded,
And memory drums had been carefully loaded;
While adding a Christmasy glow to the scene,
The lights on the console, flashed red, white and green.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
The programmer ran to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway he flew like a flash,
Forgetting his key in his curious dash.
He stood in the hallway and looked all about,
When the door slammed behind him, and he was locked out.
Then, in the computer room what should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer;
And a little old man, who with scarcely a pause,
Chuckled: "My name is Santa...the last name is Claus."
The computer was startled, confused by the name,
Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow exclaim:
"This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,
And Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen."
With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew;
It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew.
It searched in its memory core, trying to "think";
Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink.
Unable to do its electronic job,
It said in a voice that was almost a sob:
"Your eyes - how they twinkle - your dimples so merry,
Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry,
Your smile - all these things, I've been programmed to know,
And at data-recall, I am more than so-so;
But your name and your address (computers can't lie),
Are things that I just cannot identify.
You've a jolly old face and a little round belly,
That shakes when you laugh like a bowl full of jelly;
My scanners can see you, but still I insist,
Since you're not in my program, you cannot exist!"
Old Santa just chuckled a merry "ho, ho",
And sat down to type out a quick word or so.
The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound sharp and clean,
As Santa fed this "data" to the machine:
"Kids everywhere know me; I come every year;
The presents I bring add to everyone's cheer;
But you won't get anything - that's plain to see;
Too bad your programmers forgot about me."
Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug,
"Merry Christmas to All," as he pulled out its plug!
(author unknown)
Back to Santa's Workshop|Send Santa A Letter|The Original Christmas Story|
How Santa Knows if You've Been Good
How to Get on The "NICE" List|Santa's FAQ|General Christmas Traditions
(c) 1993 Christopher M. Mislow
'Twas late Christmas eve, and throughout the White House
All slumbered but Socks (who was chewing a mouse)
When all of a sudden a thunderous roar
Rattled the East Wing from rafter to floor.
Unsure if the noise was just gas or artillery,
Bill Clinton took action: he deputized Hillary.
In her robe and her slippers, she trudged to the source
Of the noise and saw nothing, but then heard a coarse
Texas twang from the fireplace clamor
"Down here! Are y'all just as blind as those tinhorn reindeer?"
There, on the hearth, 'midst the timber and tinder,
Sat H. Ross Perot, all covered with cinder.
"Your flue," he complained, "is disgusting with soot.
You gave far too many staff members the boot.
Cutting budgets is wonderful; better is cheaper.
But you need either Zoe's or Kimba's housekeeper.
From ashes that thick, someone's breathing might fail.
Thank goodness, like Bill, that I didn't inhale."
"Why, Ross," replied Hillary, "pray tell what is it
To which Bill and I owe this Christmas Eve visit?
You're certainly welcome to use the front door.
Did you come down the chimney to hide from Al Gore?"
Shaking the layer of ash from his head,
Ross brushed his flattop, glowered and said:
"No, Ma'am. I'm a shareholder in Santa Claus, Inc.,
Whose dividends recently started to sink.
When I finally cornered old Santa himself,
He offered to hire me on as an elf!
So I planned my attack, set my financing snares,
Then bought all the company's outstanding shares.
Christmas trees won't be all that get trimmed from now on;
The era of deficit budgets is gone.
The business is gonna be run right because
All day, every day, now I am Santa Claus."
From his inside coat pocket Ross whipped out a chart
And a pointer he brandished with well-practiced art.
"Now, you look at this. You see this here graph?
The way Santa's workshop was run is a laugh.
Those North Pole utility bills are a joke,
And the union-scale wages will soon have us broke.
We need much, much cheaper electrical power,
And elves who don't make fifteen dollars an hour."
For dramatic effectiveness, Ross took a pause,
Then resumed his debut as the new Santa Claus.
"Each new day brings another environment rule.
Recycling toys is a pain in the Yule!
The slogan 'keep the North Pole white'
Is driving expenditures clear out of sight.
Luckily, NAFTA provides a solution,
A haven in which I can discharge pollution
Into the air or the land of my neighbor,
Where the real estates cheap, and so is the labor.
Where there's no powerful union committee:
I'm moving the workshop to Mexico City."
Then, in a twinkle, up the chimney he went,
Back through the soot out the cold rooftop vent.
But not before saying, with a wink and a nod,
"Buenos noches, Miss Hillary, and Feliz Navidad!"
Back to Santa's Workshop|Send Santa A Letter|The Original Christmas Story|
How Santa Knows if You've Been Good
How to Get on The "NICE" List|Santa's FAQ|General Christmas Traditions
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the armory securely,
In hope that no aliens would get up that early.
The crewmen were nestled all snug in their bunks
(Except for the few who were partying drunks);
And Picard in his nightshirt and Bev in her lace,
Had just settled down for a neat face-to-face...
When out in the halls there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pants and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the cars and yelled loudly, "Deck One!;
"It's Riker! It's Data! It's Worf and Jean-Luc!
It's Geordi! And Wesley, the genetic fluke!
To the top of the bridge, to the top of the hall!
Now float away, float away, float away all!"
As leaves in autumn are whisked off the street,
So the floor of the bridge came away from our feet,
And up to the ceiling our bodies they flew,
As the captain called out, "What the hell is this Q?!".
The prankster just laughed and expanded his grin,
And, snapping his fingers, he vanished again.
As we took in our plight and were looking around,
The spell was removed, and we crashed to the ground.
Then Q, dressed in fur from his head to his toe,
Appeared once again to continue the show.
"That's enough!" cried the captain, "You'll stop this at once!",
And Riker said, "Worf! Take your aim at this dunce!",
"I'm deeply offended, Jean-Luc," replied Q.
"I just wanted to spend Christmas with you."
As we scoffed at his words, he produced a large sack.
He dumped out the contents, and took a step back.
"I've brought gifts," he said, "just to show I'm sincere.
There's something delightful for everyone here."
He sat on the floor and dug into the pile,
And handed out gifts with his most charming smile.
"For Counselor Troi, there's no need to explain,
Here's Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain.
For Worf I've got mints as his breath's not too great,
And for Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date.
For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-Plus; for Riker, a truss.
For Beverly Crusher, there's sleek lingerie,
And for Jean-Luc, the pleasure to see her that way.
Then he sprang to his feet with that grin on his face,
And, clapping his hands, disappeared into space.
But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!!"
'Twas the night before Christmas on the Enterprise-D,
On a routine short hop to Starbase 03,
With Data on duty in the command chair,
At Warp 6, the Enterprise soon would be there.
Just for something to do while the other crew slept,
He scanned where historical records were kept --
And with a blink of his eye and a cock of his head,
"Intriguing! Tomorrow is Christmas!" he said.
But no one was stirring, and he sought to find why,
And so he buzzed Geordi, who awoke with a sigh:
"Christmas? It's only an old holiday --
Now just let me get back to sleep, okay?"
"But is to wish Merry Christmas not human to do?"
And so Data wished it -- to the whole ship and crew.
Everyone on the Enterprise awoke from this clatter --
Picard rushed to the bridge to see what was the matter.
"What is the meaning of this noise, Mister Data?"
"Sir, is it not Christmas--?" "We'll discuss it much later!"
Just then Worf said, "Captain -- a Klingon Prey Bird!
Its hull has been damaged -- it's uncloaking, sir."
"On screen," said Picard, as the Klingon ship hailed:
"Federation vessel, our Life Support systems have failed!
A strange ship attacked us, inflicting the worst,
(though naturally, of course, we'd fired on it first)."
The Klingons beamed over, and the senior staff met,
To try and determine the source of the threat.
Said Picard, "Mister Data, an assignment for you:
Give all of these Klingons something to do!
They think it's the Romulans we should look for,
Get them all off the bridge, before there's a war!"
So Data departed, while the rest of the crew
Wondered: Romulans? Ferengi? If not them, then who?
Said Worf, "Sir -- disturbance on Holodeck Three!"
The entire bridge crew ran down there to see.
Roared Picard, "Mister Data, what the devil is this!!"
"Sir, I have taught the Klingons how to celebrate Christmas."
And so there they were -- on holodecks 3, 4 and 5
With synthohol, singing and Rokeg Blood Pie!
Soon the Big E was rocking with holiday cheer
Friend,foe, and family came from both far and near.
The Romulans showed up with some Romulan Ale,
The Ferengi brought goodies for free -- not for sale!
But a strange ship was coming, the captain was told,
With one crew member only, and a huge cargo hold.
Said the Klingons, "It's the strange ship that fought us -- attack!"
Said Picard, "On Christmas? -- Mister Worf, just hold back."
And then as the ship came into view,
Onscreen came its captain -- none other than Q!
He wore a white beard and a suit of deep red...
"Joyeux Noel, mon captain," was what Santa Q said.
"Tell those Klingons next time to not go so berserk.
You need good defense systems in this line of work.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be warping away...
Did you think anyone else could do this job in one day?"
"I'm sensing emotion," said Counselor Troi,
"Peace in the galaxy, Good Will and Joy."
And they stood on the bridge and watched Q take flight,
shouting,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!"
Back to Santa's Workshop|Send Santa A Letter|The Original Christmas Story|
How Santa Knows if You've Been Good|How to Get on The "NICE" List|
Santa's FAQ|General Christmas Traditions