Sunday, December 24, 2017
Santa's Martian Adventure
(with apologies to Clement Moore)
By Jim Bray
'Twas the night before Christmas and all 'cross the planet
The children were playing, 'til their folks said to can it,
And sent them, excited, to snuggle in bed
With visions of Santa Claus inside their heads.
'Cause this was the night that St. Nick would come by
In his pressurized sled, swooping down from the sky
And entering Marsport through the air exhaust shaft
Bright toys for the kiddies, parcels from home,
Memories of Earth, where they'd no longer roam.
And after he left all the presents and things
To the bright rings of Saturn his way would then wing;
Where once more old Santa'd deliver the toys
For all of that colony's good girls and boys.
Then, finally finished, he'd head back to Earth
And land at the North Pole's own rocket ship berth.
But back here on Mars, though we didn't all know;
There was one nasty person with something to show;
Her name was Fitzsimmons, and nothing could faze her
(Cause she'd just assembled a powerful laser!)
And she hated Christmas 'cause she got no presents
From the miserable Marsmen she thought were all peasants.
"And this year," she vowed, "I'll make them have fits
By blowing their Santa to laser-charged bits!"
(And I know she meant it, cause I was nearby
At a viewport, computer scanning the sky
For that telltale blip that I knew would mean
That Santa Claus' sled had come onto the screen)
And out of my viewport, I saw with a shock .
A space suited figure emerge from the lock
Carrying equipment out onto the land
Where it set up a tripod on ruddy-hued sand.
Then it mounted the hardware (I didn't know what,
But it looked like some weapon lined up for clear shot).
Then from my computer I heard a loud blip
And back to the screen I let my eyes slip.
And wouldn't you know, to my eyes did appear
A fast-moving object that really looked queer!
And tracking its course I knew (after a pause)
That it came here from Earth, and it must be S. Claus!
And swooping down low over top the domed city
Came that pressurized sled, looking ever so pretty.
I looked out the viewport, St. Nick waved his hand
And, turning around, he descended to land.
Then that space suited cad gave away its foul game
As it swung 'round that weapon and started to aim
Right up there at Santa, who noticed at last
But didn't seem bothered by impending blast!
Then the laser gun fired a bright, shiny beam
Like the powers of hell from some very bad dream.
And the light was aimed true, right between Santa's eyes,
And Christmas, it seemed, would be blown from the skies!
But by some kind of magic not quickly detected
The beam bounced off Santa, completely reflected
Right back at Fitzsimmons, who stood there in shock
And was blasted to bits on the cold, Martian rock!
So Christmas came after all, happy and gay
As truly befitted the specialest day
And Santa Claus left us all beautiful things
like Ganymede turquoise and Lunar rock rings.
Then he went up the air shaft and back on this trip
Heading for space at a really fast clip.
And his sled left a trail of incredible light
Spelling out "Happy Christmas to all, and good night!"