Christmas Poems, Stories, and Funnies

'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.

His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn."

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

Yes Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus

We take pleasure in answering this prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:

Is There a Santa Claus?

                         
 As a result of an overwhelming lack of requests, and with research help
 from that renown scientific journal SPY magazine (January, 1990) - I am
 pleased to present the annual scientific inquiry into Santa Claus.
 
 1)  No known species of reindeer can fly.  BUT there are 300,000
 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of
 these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out
 flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen.

 2)  There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world.
 BUT since Santa doesn't (appear) to handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish
 and Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the
 total - 378 million according to Population Reference Bureau.  At an
 average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8
 million homes.  One presumes there's at least one good child in each.

 3)  Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different
 time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to
 west (which seems logical).  This works out to 822.6 visits per second.
 This is to say that for each Christian household with good children,
 Santa has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump
 down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents
 under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney,
 get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house.  Assuming that
 each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the
 earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the purposes of
 our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about .78 miles
 per household, a total trip of 75-1/2 million miles, not counting stops
 to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding
 and etc.

 This means that Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3,000
 times the speed of sound.  For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-
 made vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4
 miles per second - a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles
 per hour.

 4)  The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element.  Assuming
 that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized lego set (2
 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who
 is invariably described as overweight.  On land, conventional reindeer
 can pull no more than 300 pounds.  Even granting that "flying reindeer"
 (see point #1) could pull TEN TIMES the normal ammount, we cannot do the
 job with eight, or even nine.  We need 214,200 reindeer.  This increases
 the payload - not even counting the weight of the sleigh - to 353,430 tons.
 Again, for comparison - this is four times the weight of the Queen
 Elizabeth.

 5)  353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous
 air resistance - this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as
 spacecrafts re-entering the earth's atmosphere.  The lead pair of reindeer
 will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy.  Per second.  Each.  In
 short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the
 reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake.
 The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of
 a second.  Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces
 17,500.06 times greater than gravity.  A 250-pound Santa (which seems
 ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015
 pounds of force.

 In conclusion -

 If Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he's dead now.

1. Claim you were a Christmas tree in your former life. If s/he tries to bringone into the room, scream bloody murder and trash on the floor.

4. Sit in a corner in the fetal position rocking back and forth chanting,"Santa Claus is coming to town, Santa Claus is coming to town..."

5. Hang mistle-toe in the doorway. When your roommate enters or leaves theroom, plant a wet one on his/her lips

.6. Hang a stocking with your roommates name on it. Collect coal and sharpobjects in it. If s/he asks, say "you've been very naughty this year."

7. Paint your nose red and wear antlers. Constantly complain about how younever get to join in on the reindeer games.

8. Make conversation out of Christmas Carols. (I.E. "You know, I saw mommykissing Santa Claus underneath the mistle-toe last night.")

12. Build a snowperson with your roommate and place a hat on its head. When itdoesn't come to life, cry hysterically "it didn't work!"

13. Whip your roommate screaming "now Dasher, now Dancer, now Donner, andBlitzen, etc."

15. Wake up every morning screaming "Ghost of Christmas Future, please have mercy on my soul!"

16. Tell your roommate you're moving out. Santa's buying you a house on 34thStreet.

19. Put on a fake white beard and insist that all your roommate's friends "giveit a yank."

20. Ring jingle bells maniacally saying "every time a bell rings an angel getshis wings."

21. Stand in front of the mirror reciting "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" overand over in your underwear.

23. Watch your roommate when s/he is sleeping. When s/he wakes up sing, "he seesyou when you're sleeping..."

24. Steal a life size nativity scene and display it in your room. When yourroommate asks, tell him/her "I had to let them stay here, there's no room at theinn."

25. When your roommate goes to the bathroom, rearrange his/her possessions. Tellhim/her that Santa's elves must have done it.

A young man wished to purchase a present for his sweetheart and after careful consideration, he decided on a pair of gloves. Accompanied by his sweetheart's sister, he went to a department store and bought a pair of white gloves. The sister purchased a pair of panties for herself. During the wrapping, the items got mixed up. The sister got the gloves and the sweetheart got the panties. Without checking the contents, he sealed the package and sent it to her with this note.

This is a little gift to show my affection for you on Christmas. I chose these because I noticed that you are not in the habit of wearing any when you go out in the evenings. If it had not been for your younger sister, I would have chosen the long ones with buttons, but she wears the short ones that are easy to remove. These are a delicate shade, but the lady I bought them from showed me a pair that she had been wearing for three weeks and they were hardly soiled. I had the sales girl try them on and she really looked great. I wish I could put them on you for the first time. No doubt other men's hands will come in contact with them before I have a chance to see you again.

When you take them off, blow in them before putting them away as they will naturally be a little damp from wearing. Be sure to keep them on when you clean them or they might shrink. I hope you will like them and wear them for me on Friday night.

P.S. Just think of how many times I will kiss them during the coming year. Also, the latest style is to wear them folded down with the fur showing.