Here's a nice heartwarming Christmas story. Probably.
Santa Claus Vs. The Alien Menace
It was three months before Christmas, and Santa had grown quite bored. Day and night he worked on toys, checked the lists, and fed the Reindeer of his own accord. The routine wasn't so bad, since he'd done it for millenniums ongoing. The myth, the legend, the fat jolly man; the names children called him were overflowing.
That being said, he was ready for change. Taking a few weeks off was something he could arrange. Presents were in production and all the Elves were very content. No riots, no malice, no cookie shortages that torment. Considering what to do, Santa sat down in his office to think. Though tired as always, his face was still a cheery rose pink.
Pouring a cup of hot chocolate, he drank and relaxed his mind. This helped him think more creatively, at least when he was inclined. New age technology made his old ways seem more dull. Trying to keep things more traditional, his mindset was as stubborn as a bull.
What could old Santa do to make his routine seem more fresh? Maybe he could write a zombie book, about mindless creatures eating brains and flesh. But that ship had long sailed as the story had been done. Countless times, similar situations, it's something everyone had read a ton.
Book writing seemed out of the question, since doing so took a lot of time. It's not that Santa didn't want to, but it's tricky to fill a zombie book full of rhyme. Plus he only had until the first of December. He didn't want to get too distracted, since Christmas was what he always needed to remember.
Wanting another perspective, he called upon Snugglepuff his Chief Elf. "Dear Snugglepuff, my friend, I can't decide to do with myself."
"Hey Big Dawg, glad to hear you're wanting to take a break. You haven't changed things up for decades, so we'll figure out something new for you to partake."
The Chief Elf stood there in silence as he continued to consider. Either that or he'd fallen asleep while standing up; he was often times such a kidder. Though Santa was patient, he decided to have some fun. At his motionless Chief Elf he threw a cookie; quick to respond, Snugglepuff pulled out a candy cane and hit a home run.
The cookie flew through the back window, breaking the glass. Santa laughed with a deep "Ho Ho Ho," while the Elf also joined en masse. Looking to the broken window, the snow was falling lightly. Meanwhile the northern lights reflected off each flake, as it shined oh so brightly.
Far out in view they noticed something odd that did not belong. A large metallic object, shaped sort of like a sideways gong. It was tough to make out since it moved so quickly. It was a UFO of sorts, and the erratic way it flew seemed very sickly.
Santa had seen something like it many times before. Every now and then they try to shoot down his sleigh, though their aim was so bad it was quite a bore. Humanity always did fine to take care of such an alien menace. He could just ignore it, and maybe play some tennis.
But today he was in a different kind of mood. Ready for something new, maybe fighting aliens would offer a nice interlude.
"Let's take down that alien and have a good fight. Make sure to pack lots of cookies, because I have a big appetite."
"Will do Boss, I'll get started right away. Let's head down to the barn and prepare the Reindeer for the starway."
Out of the office the two of them rushed. Other Elves seemed confused as to why Santa was so hushed. However they didn't let themselves get distracted on the way to the barn. Not even Mrs. Claus who was trying to measure him, with her new red balls of yarn.
Finally arrived, they opened the two large barn doors leading inside. Well technically Santa opened both, while the Chief Elf cheered while standing aside like a useless guide. Snugglepuff was too small to move something so large. Though small in strength, his cheering lead the charge.
Into the barn both of them walked. Since they were isolated in the North Pole, everything was unlocked. The Reindeer were sleeping all cozy and snug. One of them looked up curious, since it was rare to see Santa forget his hot chocolate mug.
"Wake up my friends, we're going on a special trip. Afterwards I'll give you a big snack: carrots with BBQ ranch dip."
At the prospect of food, the rest of the Reindeer perked up. They were loyal to Santa from since they were young, but they still loved food even when grownup.
"Boss we need more than your sleigh if we're going to take those aliens on. Maybe we can bring some large guns and go charging towards them like Genghis khan."
"Ho ho ho, you're such a fun elf. That's why you're Chief, because your humor is top-shelf. But we can't use guns, because modern warfare is not allowed. Random restrictions make this more enjoyable, since our weapon stock is well endowed."
Not wanting to break the laws of the land, the two of them consider the best way to battle. The alien menace would be challenging, and they didn't have much time to prattle. No modern weapons or T-words could be used on this day. Just Christmas cheer and the stretching of limits with a bit of horseplay.
"By definition, modern warfare is new age techniques. Like the launching of nuclear missiles, which can destroy entire mountain peaks. What else do we have in stock? Unable to use our eight thousand rockets, we mainly have toys and that strange wall clock."
This was a new challenge for someone such as Santa. He had visited the world, and collected things from Toscana to Indiana. His experience being the spread of joy to the world. Always happy, his personality was never unfurled.
In all honesty he always wanted to shoot some high payload rockets. But that couldn't happen on this night; plus they didn't fit comfortably into his pockets. The Reindeer were now strapped to the sleigh. They were anxious and ready to go on their way.
Santa and Chief Elf Snugglepuff hurried back to the toy shop, to find something to use. They had no clue what would work against the aliens, but that needed something that would help conduce. They had plenty of tin foil, and even baby oil. However tin foil hats probably wouldn't help, and neither would the decorative kelp.
And then Santa saw it; the package that had arrived last week in the mail. Sent from an outlaw mech pilot, a guide book on poetry that was certain to fail. Could poetry so bad be sure to defeat the aliens or make them run away? At the very least, maybe it'd cause a little dismay?
With no other weapons at his disposal, and bad poetry not being modern tech. He took the guide book on failed poetry and did his final check. The sleigh was ready to go, and his Chief Elf too. The group of them didn't look that threatening, but it'd just have to do.
One last thought Snugglepuff was quick to offer. If they bring a megaphone, this would ensure the aliens could hear their non-optional proffer. Now fully equipped, Santa finally sat down. He looked onward and was about to say something clever, but couldn't think of a good noun.
"Off we go, Dasher and Dancer. Chase down those aliens straight, like a lancer."
"You know what to do, Prancer and Vixen. Try not to cause a scandal and resign, like President Nixon."
"Fly fast and firm, Comet and Cupid. I shouldn't need to say more; just don't do anything stupid."
"Dunder and Blixem, you've got the rear guard. Keep the others calm, and remember we're not allowed to use the rocket bombard."
"To the top of the sky, we'll all try not to die. Now dash away, and show the world beating aliens is child's play!"
With the mighty cry of Santa, to the UFO they rush. The ride was pretty smooth, especially since the sleigh's seats were quite plush. Snugglepuff was unconscious from the g-force. Santa wasn't worried though, since he was mainly there as a morale support resource.
On their way to the aliens, Santa pulled out his new guide book. He had about three minutes or less, to learn about bad poetry that hits like a strong left hook. The rules were pretty simple: don't try hard and maybe use a bad pun. Even better if you use unnecessary words like bourdon and phaeton.
It doesn't really matter if anyone knows what it means. As long as it rhymes, you can talk about refried beans. Santa was unsure how bad poetry would really do much good. Surely its effectiveness against anything is an exaggeration, or a falsehood.
Either way it was the only thing he had with him to use. His words would have to be enough to cause the menace to diffuse. Putting the book down, he was as ready as could be. Well not really, but he was having fun and felt carefree.
Finally the UFO was close in site. Even though it was an advanced alien starship, it was not very bright. Only two lights, one top and bottom. The colors were brownish and reminded him of autumn.
The aliens were first to make a move. They fired their flashy laser guns, like some kind of disco groove. Of course all of them missed, because Santa is the superior pilot. Even with Reindeer and a clunky sleigh, his flying skills were precise like an eyelet.
Flurrying about the alien vessel continued to shoot and dance. The aerial exchange was like some kind of strange romance. Nobody was hurt, and Santa was having great fun. This was the most entertainment he'd had since he tried flying around the sun.
Though he enjoyed himself, it was time to make his move. He pulled out the megaphone and considered the worst poetry he could behoove. It took a moment to tone out anything good. With a deep breathe, and megaphone in hand, he finally stood.
I think I'll lie down now
Too many potatoes were eaten last night
Nobody brought the gravy so it was all starch
My stomach now gives me blight
Next time I'll bring a pot roast instead
Even though I hate to eat it
At least my belly wont be dead
Which means I will be able to help my wife knit
The first poem turned out quite rough. This was a plus, and it was easy to say when filled with useless fluff. Much to Santa's surprise the UFO was shaken slightly. The poem had some effect, but maybe he worded the first one too politely?
He was not experienced at this, making the challenge greater. Approaching poetry like this made him feel as elegant as a ocean freighter. But for the sake of the world, he would try his worst. Telling poetry so bad, it would make a alien ship's hull burst.
Your metal hull shines too much for me
That must mean you like to keep it clean
It'd rather eat rotting limes from a dying tree
Than see something with such a sheen
My sleigh has a nice natural red paint
No flashy lasers or fancy lights
It may be simple but the look is quaint
While the looks of your UFO just bites
Santa could only shrug, since none of that was even true. The UFO looked fine, though the poetry definitely blew. Intended or not, smoke now came from one side. The aliens were in trouble; with flames from Santa's bad poetry, the ship's flight path started to slide.
If he could keep this up, he may actually have a chance to win. And in all honesty, telling bad poetry almost made him grin. Preparing himself for the third round, he pondered once more. Surely Santa could come up with another poem which the aliens would deplore.
Tonight is a great time for me to share my words
There is so much I want to say
My poems will even scare off birds
Now I think they're as far off as Bombay
But don't you worry I can still share more with you
So much poetry it's like you can't escape a blob of slime
Even if there's no other audience I can also play my kazoo
But I forget to pack one, maybe next time
Apparently he was winning and it was still unclear why. Poetry this terrible must have made him look like a tough guy. The aliens were almost defeated, but he'd need to use a finishing move. A poem so bad and so poorly contrived, that even his wife may disapprove.
He took an extra moment to think this one over. It needed to be something that made little sense, like a thousand-leaf clover. Something so bad that even speaking it would make one cringe. The idea would have to gain inspiration from the far off fringe.
Oh no it looks like your ship is going to sink
Now I'll finish you off by washing the dishes in it
Though if my wife did them they've been finished in a blink
While my washing skills are very unfit
I just realized I don't have any dish soap
So I guess I can't wash dishes in your sinking ship
Maybe we can do something else like jump rope
I'm sure we'll come out ahead because you'll trip
Unless you don't actually have feet then we'll need a new battle game
We could fly south to wave at a seagull
Or maybe for fun we could fill out an insurance claim
Because you'll probably need one for the damaged hull
Looks like you're falling quicker now
I'll go get you that insurance paper
It's sort of like watching a wingless cow
And you should probably check on that smoky vapor
The deed had been done and the words had been spewed. Bad poetry was a oddly effective weapon, if not a little crude. The UFO fell to the icy ground below. Its lights which were so bland, they no longer would glow.
Puzzled at what to do now that the aliens were defeated, Santa's sleigh landed. Whoever was inside the UFO was most likely stranded. Even though they had shot first, he felt a little bad. So as a nice gesture, he pulled out a box of cookies like a friendly grandad.
Shortly after, a lone small alien popped out of the ship. As it walked on the ice, it began to slip. Falling to the ground, it bumped its head. Shaped like a pear, Santa was worried it was now dead.
He rushed over and gave it a hand. It got up, though looked embarrassed as it remembered the orders from high command. Its job was to kill Santa before the next Christmas eve night. But what was the point in getting rid of someone who caused such delight?
Santa handed the alien the cookies which filled a great box. Excited, it dived in and ate them like a hungry fox. For this was their first treat, as a child of an alien race. Nobody had ever given it a gift, and instead only sprayed its face with mace.
The story was the same, with every alien that had come. They were curious about this Christmas thing, but everyone just told them they looked dumb. Angered by this they declared a vast war. Actually nobody really knew about it, but regardless they'd always try to cause an uproar.
After many failed attempts, they had nearly given up. This was their last chance to stop Santa, and if they couldn't they'd just make the Earth blow up. Santa was still confused why they were targeting him. He didn't recall ever doing anything grim.
But many decades ago, an alien had tried to go visit the north pole. In the dark of night, Santa's sleigh accidentally ran over his ship, a crime worse than coal. They vowed to stop him from doing such evil deeds. Like flying at unreasonably high speeds.
Realizing his mistake, Santa told the child he was sorry. To make amends, he was willing to make a great safari. Once a year he brings presents to all those good on the Earth. Santa promised he'll also bring presents to the aliens, for what it was worth.
The child seemed excited at this thought. It was sure the other aliens could be bought...err, would be really happy and whatnot. Santa helped drag the UFO back to his Elves. There they could help repair it, or at least they would install some nice oak wood shelves.
While waiting for its family, Santa told the child many old stories. He talked about different toys, and his travels through different territories. Through all this they seemed quite impressed. However there was one thing that still made them quite distressed.
The poems which were so bad and sunk its ship. It actually enjoyed them, even though it made its ship start to chip. Santa was unsure of how to respond. Someone actually liking his worst poetry, making this a strange bond.
Hoping to please the child, he saved the best for last. Or maybe it'd be the worst, but at least sharing it would be a blast.
Twas three months before Christmas, when all through the night
Nobody was flying, except a lone UFO at great height
Its path was strange though carefully planned
In hopes that St. Nicholas would soon land
The child was nestled all snug in his ship
While visions of Santa flying made his radar nearly blip
And mamma on the mothership and I in my pod
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's plod
When out on the horizon there came into view
I sprang from my thoughts to see if it was true
Away to the west I flew like a flash
Using the booster engines that cause whiplash
With a jolly driver, so lively and fast
I knew in a moment it must be him at last
More rapid than eagles Santa soon came
And he told bad poetry, like it was some kind of game
Then in a twinkling, I heard the roof crack
Fires were filling the ship with smoke so black
As I drew in my head, and was flying around
Eventually the UFO fell to the ground
Alone and scared I was unsure what to do
Then I saw him reach out his hand and give me cookies to chew
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how jolly
His cheeks were like roses, sort of like my aunt Molly
He spoke not a word; well maybe he said a few
His kindness was still something I could not construe
But together we sat and mended our ways
While eating delicious cookies with plenty of glaze
