Poet Authority Poem Terminal

The respect earned over the holiday with it.

He fondled the little points.

Tweaked them.

Hoped they'd remain upright.

It was an exciting time to be alive for Phil.

The McCrackers family didn't know about his power.

Phil kept it to himself.

He would ensure birthday candles stayed lit when children tried to blow them out.

Because that's the sort of guy he was.

And sometimes he'd light candles he could see through house windows.

He liked it when the families were in bed.

He imagined what sorts of arguments they might have about leaving candles the next morning.

He requested socks for his birthday.

The note went on.

A few specific demands.

For instance.

The socks should be made out of bricks,

They should have windows in them.

And a few doorways into separate compartments.

All unusual requests for socks.

Additionally the socks should be capable of fitting his entire body.

Along with a few pieces of furniture.

Peeled open my newly acquired chocolate stash.

Double checked the contents.

Yes.

I'd definitely eaten too much of the stuff.

I pulled out a few more bars.

Got down to business.

Fought back the regret.

Tried to enjoy my chocolate.

Santa awarded himself the big prize.

Delivery driver of the year.

The applause was bitter.

Expressions resentful.

He wanted to get in before everyone else.

Didn't want to have to deal with any returns.

He fell into a packing box.

He had Mrs Claus send out a questionnaire to the elves.

Who all looked rather miffed that they had to down their tools to fill in this stupid form.

One of the elves took Santa's sleigh out for a test run.

He lost control.

Cost a family of four their home. 

The cover up was immense.

There were distressing scenes.

A lot of feathers.

Blood.

That sort of thing.

Occasionally he would take a break to practise his jolly laugh.

An audience of elves was on hand to applaud his attempts.

Tears flooded the cheeks of an elf.

His hat was missing.

It now existed inside Rudolph.

Santa slapped a mining helmet on the poor guy.

Sent him in to retrieve it.

Turned on the heating.

Slapped that belly of his.

Fondled that beard of his.

And wondered where breakfast was.

She let him know they were too busy for that sort of nonsense.

He agreed.

Pretended he'd never even mentioned it.

Just plodded along.

He was reminded of this fact for the remainder of the day.

The sort of things people pretend they've read.

And some shelves to hold the books.

Which I placed rather strategically behind me.

Just in case I should ever be invited on a podcast.

She began rummaging through the stuffed toys.