‘Twas the nightmare before Christmas and all through my head,
not a thought was a stirring. I thought I was dead.
My toes were wrapped up in my bead clothes with care
hoping by morning I still would be there.
My brother and sister were nestled snug in their beds.
I envied their dreams and for reasons, their heads.
And momma in her kerchief and pa in his cap
had slumber between them in their wintery nap.
When up in the attic the rose such a clatter.
I awoke with a start and gave the bedclothes a scatter.
Away to the staircase I flew with a flash,
and I stood there mother as she let out a low gasp.
Up from the attic there came a soft glow
that shone through the rails on the staircase below.
When what on the edge of the stair should appear
but some floppy green toes and red eyes full of fear.
With a murmur so incoherent and thick
I knew certainly that this wasn’t Saint Nick.
More rapid than eagles he drew from thin air
some strange type of laser and it gave me a scare.
“Take me to your leader” he spoke in a voice
which was really quite grainy and at the same time sounded moist.
Then he flew down the stairs and came right up to my face,
stating how unpleasant he’d feel
must he lay me to waste.
As dry leaves that before the hurricane fly
he abducted my body and we took to the sky.
Across all the rooftops of the city we flew
and I had no distinct feeling of what he would do.
And as the alien sat at the console of his ship
we jumped to light speed with the flip of a switch.
As I drew my last breath before freezing in time
I was acutely concerned I was going to die.
As we exited hyperspace and slowed to a stop,
I said “This must not be Kansas.” He confirmed it was not.
Once more, teleported from the back of his ship
A large apparatus with intent, nondescript …
There was a look in his eyes that then filled me with fear
and physical sensation kind of pleasant and queer.
He informed me through some kind of psychic connection
That he just needed a sample “there’s no need for aggression.”
After he could what he needs from my head
he’d return me to the soft comfort of bed.
He then wrapped the contraption snugly ‘round my face
and briefly it seemed that my head was displaced.
As soon as it finished, I woke up in bed
and it seemed in my dream someone pummeled my head.
When I rose from my bead, what I found in the bureau
was a note scratched so deep you could call it a furrow.
Written in a tone nowhere close to auspicious
“Thanks for your brainstem hope you have a nice Christmas.”
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