Part 194: Hinnom - Happy Holidays!
Gather 'round Papa Semyaza little Melqarts and Ba'als and I'll tell you the holiday story of our people. Come along, don't be shy little ones. Bring your cocoa and your hydra-crispies. Everyone all settled down? Good.
Twas the night before King Hippomnomnomnom's Avvite Hegemony Supremacy Day, when all through Hinnom
Not a creature was stirring, not even your mom.
Raksharaja were roasting by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Azazel soon would be there.
The Melqarts were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
KATE! in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled in for a long winters "nap."
When outside the cap there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like The Flash (who could totally beat up superman and batman at once by the way),
Tore open the shutters and lit up some hash.
The moon on the breasts of Mary Schapiro
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wonder should land with a plop,
But a sleigh made of skulls, and eight giant cyclops.
With a towering angel, wreathed in the fires of Hell,
I knew in a moment it must be St Azazel.
More rapid than his cyclops they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now CORDUROY SHOTGUN! now, MUFFIN BUTTERER! now, MR TOAD'S WILD RIDE and KIELBASA!
On, JOYPRONG! On, BEEF THERMOMETER! on PEN15, on WANG and TAPIOCA SPRINKLER!
To the cap of the Witch Kings! to the top of their walls!
Now burn away! Burn away! Burn away all!"
As Thuella that heralds the hurricane flies,
When she meets with an obstacle, mounts to the sky.
So on to Sauromatia, the cyclops they flew,
With the sleigh full of Death, and St Azazel too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the field
The whispering pull of each weapon they wield.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Azazel came with a bound.
He was dressed in Dawn Armor, from his head to his foot,
And his mail was tarnished with blood and with soot.
With two pairs of wings he had furled on back,
He looked like the Reaper when he opened his pack.
His eyes-how they burned! his dimples how scary!
His cheeks rouged like roses, his lip balm was cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the locks of his hair fell gently like snow.
The blade, The First Sword, he held tight in his fist,
The smoke from its flame rose 'round with a twist.
He had an imperial face and abs made of steel,
The sound when he laughed: like someone broke on the wheel!
He was fire and sin, the first Watcher t'get in,
And I sobbed when I saw him, to my great chagrin!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know he'd left nothing un-dead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And laid out dead Witch Kings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his hand aside the Gate Stone,
And giving a nod to the cowering Kohen,
He sprang to his skull-sleigh, to his 'clops gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a patriot missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy King Hippomnomnomnom's Avvite Hegemony Supremacy Day to all, and to all a good-night!
Except Sauromatia because they're dead."