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C.R. Kwiat

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Member Since: Nov, 2007

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"The Stockholder," a trillionaire and industrial magnate, funds the development of controlled nuclear fusion power generation, and fends off threats to hinder his efforts..  
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Twas the Month Before Christmas
by C.R. Kwiat
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Have a Happy Holiday Season, Everyone!

‘Twas the month before Christmas
When Johnny first read,
“‘Twas the night before Christmas”,
Settled deep in his bed.

He scratched his head and wondered
Why the story was so well known.
Santa’s visiting a family…
Its popularity seemed overblown.

“Hey Mom, what’s so interesting
About Santa delivering stuff?
The plot seems a bit lacking,
It’s simply not catchy enough.”

“Well, dear,” she replied, “then rewrite it.
Make it interesting to you.
You have some talent at writing.
Show us all what you can do.”

So that night Johnny got to thinking -
Characters need to change.
They need to improve their situation.
Their lives need to be rearranged.

He set to work the next day,
Writing down how he thought it should go.
Two days later he went to his mom.
“Hey, Mom, how does this flow?”

The mom took the boy’s poem in hand,
“’Twas the month before Christmas’ she read.
‘”Times are changing, my little elves,”
Was the first thing that Santa said.

“Kids don’t want anymore handmade toys.
The toys we make are now out.
They want what they see in ads on TV,
Expensive toys, no doubt.”

He looked at the first list and read the top items.
Bionicles and an MP3.
The rest of the lists read much the same way:
Video games, DVD’s and CD’s.

Santa sat down and sighed.
“I need more money,” he said.
Donations are down, my savings is gone.
There’s nothing but trouble ahead.”

“We’ll get jobs,” one elf suggested.
“We’ve still got thirty more days.
I’m sure we could get some more money
How much do we need to raise?”

“Billions,” Santa answered, truly dismayed,
“But it’s just what has to be done.
Go out in the world and find the best jobs,
Find great big companies to run.”

But times were hard, and Santa was old.
All he could find were small jobs.
He threw newspapers in Guam, sold knives in Taiwan,
And rested in between with eggnog.

Employment was hard to find
‘cause he had no working background,
No college education, no degree in his past,
Only blue collar jobs were to be found.

The parents all noticed poor Santa next door,
Sweeping their neighbors’ chimneys.
“Good gracious, Santa!” they all said.
“That certainly can’t be healthy!”

And by Christmas Eve, Santa had found
That he still couldn’t afford all the toys.
He had to give elf-made trucks and dolls
To thousands of girls and boys.

The next year he started earlier,
Working hard from January to May.
He even took online courses at night
To try to improve his pay.

Came November he took on three jobs all at once
To try to meet increasing demands,
Till finally on one fateful night
In a hospital bed he did land.

When fifty or so elves came calling,
The doctors figured out who he was.
Then word got out rather quickly.
There was quite the media buzz.

Parents quickly set up a chat room
Where Santa’s fate they discussed.
When they realized how much poor Santa had to do,
They shook their heads in disgust.

A single father was appointed
To approach St. Nick by his bed.
‘Excuse me, sir. We’ve decided to help.
Things will be different,” he said.

“Parents have agreed to take care of their own.
They’ll buy their kids toys if they’re good.
You stay here and rest, we want you your best.
Take a vacation, you should.”

Santa was about to argue
when the father held up his hand.
“You give us Christmas cheer when the holidays are near.
Just take care of youself, ‘ol man.”

Now Santa really liked taking classes.
His interest in engineering really grew.
So now he spends the year studying electric toys.
In hopes of developing a few.

And Christmas is now really easy.
He just smiles and visits the sick.
And many donations to charities
You bet are from good ‘ol Saint Nick.’

Johnny’s mother looked up from the poem.
Her eyes trying not to tear.
“You know, Santa is real, dear Johnny, my son.
He visits this house every year.”

Her oldest son smiled back in response.
“Of course he is, Mom. I know.
But just in case he can’t afford what I want.
I’ll shorten my list. Ho, ho, ho!”

The mother just laughed as her son turned to leave.
She was lucky to have such a kid.
Not many deserved all the toys on their lists.
But sweet little Johnny sure did.

Merry Christmas to all! And remember this year
It’s not about the goods we receive.
It’s about smiles and laughs, about family and love.
It’s about a star on Christmas Eve.

C.R Kwiat






    

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Reviewed by Kathy Armijo 12/2/2007
Your story/poem is amazing. Bringing to light what many children already know - Santa is a reality shared through parents. Last year my 10 year old granddaughter told her mom and dad that she knew Santa didn't really exist, and scaled down her Christmas wish list, substantially.

God bless you. Kathy
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