Blogger Christmas Book (Apologies to Dr. Seuss)

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(HAIKU at the bottom of this post)
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THE GRINCH'S LAST RIDE



Now the Grinch sighs, an' closes y'all's book
he winks at dog Max, whips his hat from the hook.

"I can be like that! All merry with a chuckle,
if I had more adipose under my buckle.

"It's settled then, I've seen the Light
Despite what Wall Street says of my might,
I won't steal Christmas, I can't anyway-
It's not mine to give, or take away.

I can't stop sneezes or Foam's gouty toes,
her watery eyes and sniff'ly nose,
Sir Karl ordered her a stout cup 'o cheer
To brighten her mood. Ain't he a dear?

Then Karl pinched his nose and cried 'foul!
Why, he defended my right to holler and howl--
'To our land,' cried he, 'It's not too hard,
Don't despair or throw in the tow'l,
Look for riches in our own backyard.'"

Max glanced at the Grinch, his face all a puzzle
"Master, now that you've removed my muzzle,
may I ask, why do you look so vexed?
All frowny and perplexed?"

The Grinch bent down to scratch Max's ears
he wiped away three green Grinchy tears;
"Listen pooch, that Troll under his bridge
has no Christmas spirit,not even a smidge.

Oh, maybe a speck or glint now and then,
Seems he, too, had no Christmas book as a boy:
No Rudolph or Frosty, not even the Grinch to enjoy,
only jobs, jobs JOBS ---since he was ten!

Said Max, "That can't be, it won't do at all!
You and I are famous after all.
Didn't Pam tell him of Cindy Lou Who--
How, Grinchy, how can that be true?
Troll must know Who-ville? The tall and the small?"

"Speaking of small, Max, I'm not too sure
that smallness itself lacks some allure
Serendipity's ballad of Sweet Grace,
meek-nature'd with her kind face?
You remember?
The woman real pure,
who cared for her child
with patience so tender and mild?

"These people, like Who-ville too,
have a secret, maybe two:
'Don't hanker for power and fame
we let love drive our bus,
and skip all the fuss
of scheming
and screaming
and useless day-dreaming.
It's not for us.' "

Then Max grew sly,a tricky test he devised
You'll see a glint if you look in his eyes--
He threw that smug Old Grinch
an idea that was sure to pinch:

"Have you thought to use your royalties
to set up some much needed charities?"

The Grinch huffed, he puffed
he was astounded and stunned:
"My conversion's just now begun,
it not yet complete,
can you give me a week?"

"Master," woofed Max,
"Everyone would know
the wonder of Who-ville,
the high and the low,
if the story were told
in tropics or snow,
atop yonder ridge
or under Troll's bridge!

"Max, my faithful, here's a new Grinchy plan
Now that we've gathered the whole bloggy clan,
We'll dedicate this book to three, not two
Then Troll can't claim he knows not the Who!"

Next, the Grinch grabbed a red shiny bow
stuck it on his head and bellowed, "Let's GO!"

"Hurry dog, get out of that chair
Of time, we've none to spare!
On Dasher, on Dancer, Prancer and, Oooops!
Those coursers belong to Santa Claus' troops.

To Seattle We'll go, Max, to Island Bainbridge
to a house where there's nothing good in the fridge.
Just tofu and vitamin D-- not so good wif' vodka.
I ask you Max, isn't that rather oddka?

The folks there be merry, the house is aglow,
a tree decked with lights is guarded by Coco
( you'll meet her, Max, of that I am sure
that long face of yours she's certain to cure.)

Max wagged his tail, "Bark! Bark! Bark!"
The Grinch nodded his head
"Max, you're right on the mark-
I do recall some Candy Cane Bread
not made of twigs or tofus
but sugared and spiced to chase 'way the blues.

We'll give Boxer this book, with no fancy binding
It's not for show, after all, just for reminding;
folks need to know that Christmas is love.
Its story is written in the stars above.

"Max, hurry along, pack some treats for Coco,
Why, I' ll even play toy to that diva, Ho! Ho!
Fishy fingered me, my ego takes flight
oh what a burden, what a horrible plight--

To scheme all my days,
in various ways
to be center stage,
to crave more praise..

Oh it's sick, sick SICK!
and I'm tired
It makes me frantic, frenzied and wired.
My eye has a tic,
my cups won't' hic
I'm sunk low, Max, I'm mired
in a Slough of Despond
as deep as Fishy's Pond.

Max? It's true--My ego's a drag,
Ask Aunty, that old wag,
she's always the first
your bubble to burst
with preachy dogmatics
she finds in church attics.

I far prefer Chickory
we climbed hills of hickory
(Nothing like our Mount Crumpit
which looks like Whoville City Dumpit)
The Chicken -Lady, her twinkly eyes so merry
gave me some wine with cobbler of berry
then lowered her voice
she gave me no choice:

" 'Go Grinch' she ordered, 'your time here is spent'
That path you're on is crooked and bent.
Now seek the good, let go of the crass
off then to Boxer and Moi, hurry fast.' "

"Moi?" grrr'd Max with a grin,
"Where Ivan and Maddie are kin?
That fashion maven who's friend is Czar,
A fella that fancies brides from afar?"

The Grinch growled, his tone forbidding-
"Drop it, Max, I'm not kidding.
Don't you lust for some slick new master,
A Russian with a sleigh that glides faster.
Look dog, Fido is for fidelity, got it?
Any hint of dalliance? You know I'll spot it!"

"Besides, Czar only meant to open the door
to a clever, editor-ish metaphor,
and not to suggest
any carnal unrest."

Then he turned his head and whispered, "Oh"
In the east dawn rose in a golden glow
"It is Day, Max, Christmas has come.
Grab our book I want to add some
from the old book,
the one from before,
the one to which we've added
so much more.

"Type this Max:

It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
"It came without packages, boxes or bags!"

"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store.
"Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"

And so it is, sweet chillens, y'all know it's true.
Thanky so kindly, thanky to the whole blogger crew,
An' a blessed Christmas from me to each of YOU!

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And now it is Monday, ya know what that means? HAIKU 's are due.

Last week's winner was that red furry Curmudgeon, who done give us the theme fer this week--SWEET . Click on over to his blog to see what all other folks think is sweet.

Here be Aunty's two entries fer Sweet:


Out frosted windows
he stares:white-haired, blind, hearing
sweet memories fade.






June's long, languid days,
orchards yield their plump peaches,
sweet as a child's kiss.