Apocalypse on Christmas: The Snowmen of Doom

By Johnny Apocalypse December 1st, 2011

Year after year of holiday conquests,
It was another damn Christmas and I just wanted to rest.
No heavy fist fights or excessive gunplay,
Just a day with my family and a big joyful buffet.
But I should have known that my luck just wouldn't hold,
And this year's escapades were about to unfold.
It started with a rap at the door, or rather a scratch,
I ground out my cigarette and undid the latch.
I opened the door and got a great shock,
A six-foot tall snowman was the source of the knock!
Another twenty stood behind him,
Indeed my future sure looked dim.
"We're the snowmen of doom" said the leader of the pack,
Right as his limb-made arm hit me with a crack.
"We hear you're trouble this time of year,
"And we've come to destroy you with violence and fear!"
I leapt into action by pulling my lighter,
Once again the Christmas-time avenging fighter!
But the tiny flame only made him pissed,
So I decided to try using my fist.
His soft snow belly enveloped my hand,
My attack didn't work the way I had planned.
He hit me twice and came into my abode,
But by then his fate had been sewed.
I kept the house hotter than hell,
The first snowman melted and smelted and fell.
His friends knew better than to try and invade,
But I had an idea for a flamethrower homemade.
All it took was and aerosol can,
And I ran outside with my lighter in hand.
The flame blossomed forth like an atomic blast,
The army of Frostys tried to run away fast.
I held my attack and refused to retreat,
I had these frozen mother fuckers beat!
Finally I stood in a puddle of carrots and sticks,
And shouted "I'm tired of all of these holiday tricks!
"This time of year it's always the same,
"Just one more violent December game.
"Well I've had enough of your evil bullshit,
"Merry Christmas you bastards, I've finally lost it!"

Author's Note So this is the fourth holiday poem I'm whipped up for Acid Logic, and it may be the last. It's really getting harder and harder to write these, and how many more things can I fight off? Christmas trees? Those silly icicle-shaped lights?

If I have another one in me this time next year, I'll write it. No promises, though. Maybe I'll finally stop being attacked by Santas and snowmen.

 

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