‘Twas four days before Christmas, and all through the skies
a fiery comet crisscrossed the atmosphere, and everything
died.
Santa fought his sleigh, working reigns with his handles and
pedals with his feet,
But his inertial compensator had broken, ensuring a Pyhrric
defeat.
As mommy and daddy hung stockings with care,
The friction from St. Nick burnt their house with a flare.
The magic had faded, and physics took over
As santa flew from Denver to Dover.
Superheated atmosphere paved the way clear,
A liquid streak of death destroying all we hold dear.
From house to house, city to city he flew,
But ultimately he was lost – there was nothing he could do!
The heat from his speed, magic had held at bay,
But due to the Mayans, that magic had faded today.
Quetzalcoatl was laughing, capering with glee
As his diabolical creation was unable to flee.
The orphanage was a crisp, the forests a flame,
Yet the poor man at the reigns was in no way to blame.
The myth of Kris Kringle gave the Mayans their way
To exact revenge from the Spaniards before Christmas day.
They removed the protections from his magical flying sled,
And laughed in glee as the nations below him bled.
Reindeer on autopilot, never changing course,
Santa brought death, a destructive apocalyptic horse.
He cried tears of blood for his poor victims’ sake
As his travels left lumps of coal in his wake.
Before long the night was done, dawning cold, grey and dark,
Leaving an empty landscape smoky, barren, and stark.
And all through the nation, even at the White House
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
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