
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Well perhaps except for one.
Her name was Charon, and there was still much to be done.
A girl with long hair of white, and a staff to guide the dead,
The boatman smiled at her recent work, her craft painted a bright cherry red.
For Christmas was her favorite holiday, one she would never dare miss,
scavenged lights adorned her house, a rainbow lighting up the abyss.
She twirled on her toes, pure delight at the sight,
It was a shame she had forgotten,
That Christmas doesn’t come to the Underworld.
It was a dark and dreary place, full of ash and bleak air,
Only the dead belonged here, a venture Santa could not dare.
But this did not stop Charon, with tinsel in hand,
As she decorated her dead branch; a stand-in, you’d understand.
Baubles and bright things, she adorned on her tree,
With great care and precision, unaware that it was crappy.
But that didn’t stop her, she continued all the same,
A shame then still,
That Christmas doesn’t come to the Underworld.
The time soon drew near, panic set in for she still had to sleep
With a leap and a bound, she hopped into bed with nary a peep.
The house was quiet now, devoid of all sound
Except from the shadows, crawled out a Hellhound.
She was Helen, a hellhound, the pet of the pun loving girl
Unwilling of course, her jokes made her hurl.
Dull crimson eyes with teeth to match, she was a full blown murderess
Like her cousin, Cerberus.
But the sight of the sleeping boatman, made even her flames dull
She was innocent at heart, even if she was a numbskull
With a great heavy sigh, she proceeded to work
Turning bone to comb and fur to scarf, she strove to produce her own handiwork
Christmas doesn’t come to the Underworld.
But that didn’t stop her, for she too was young once
At least she could make someone happy, even it was for this dunce
Each present was set with diligence and care
Her tail whole was wagging, even down to its root hair.
Everything set, she kissed Charon good night
It was fine, she told herself, it would never come to light.
She crawled atop the bed, and tucked her tail in,
So Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night
Merry Christmas!
Aww, making presents from the bones and hairs of her murdered victims? How sweet!
Seriously though, this was adorable. Tell me, though, did someone out there make a Charon monster girl? I haven’t seen one myself, but I’d love to. Those darker, creepier monster girls are some of my favorite.
Man, that was some pretty good poetry.
Now that’s what I call recycling.
Merry Christmas everyone!