‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the land
All the people were focused on supply and demand.
They filled up their stockings – and even whole rooms –
With baubles and garments and toys and perfumes.
All the grown-ups were sleeping, all snug in their beds,
While visions of avarice danced in their heads.
And all of the children, no matter how small,
Had been told to buy/get/hoard/possess/have it all.
Then behind every wall a bright light did appear,
And the people gaped wide-eyed and trembled with fear.
A great wooden pillar sprang up in the square
And toppled the town’s Christmas tree standing there.
The pillar was covered, its surfaces crammed
With the skin of the wicked, the flesh of the damned.
The moon shining down on this horrible sight
Revealed in the shadows eight dread Cenobites.
Their leader, his face and head studded with pins,
Looked over the town and saw everyone’s sins.
He grabbed all the townsfolk with hooks and with chains,
And scoffed at their evils, and called them by name:
“Gluttony, vanity, lust and sloth!
Plenty of envy! Buckets of wrath!
But chiefly among you the worst that I see
Is the massive, insidious bulk of your greed!
“You buy and collect and obtain, yet ignore
All the loved ones you said you were doing it for!
But all that your Black Friday antics have done
Is bring the wrong Toymaker’s ‘elves’ to your town!”
“We’re sorry!” the townspeople cried. “Yes we are!
We just followed examples from near and from far!
We thought we were good! We just didn’t know!”
“You lie!” Pinhead bellowed. “You reap what you sow!
“You wanted it all, and you wanted it now.
You thought you’d avoid repercussions somehow.
But your children are learning; they see well enough
That fulfilling desires is what you call ‘love’.
“They’re drowning in presents; they’re smothered with clothes.
They think they’re in danger if nobody knows
How much money they have, how much stuff they possess,
How important they are, how much others are less.
“They’re imprisoned by things that are shiny and new,
And you’ve shown them exactly what matters to you.
Thus you’ve paid for the box, and the shipping was free;
Now I’ll know your flesh for all eternity!”
The townspeople panicked and cried out for help.
Pinhead laughed when he saw them, in spite of himself.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon filled every soul with a cold, gripping dread.
But at the last minute, a child appeared,
And walked up to Pinhead without any fear.
“Thanks for responding so quickly,” she said.
“To the wish that I wished when I climbed into bed:
“That the grown-ups would stop buying love in the store
And maybe just try spending time with us more.
I think they all got it; they all saw the light.
They learned the real spirit of Christmas tonight.”
Pinhead, quite doubtful, said, “It’s up to you;
I only came here since you wanted me to.
If you think they deserve one more chance to do well,
Then I and my pillar will go back to hell.”
“I do,” the girl told him. “But thanks all the same.
It made quite a difference; I’m happy you came.”
So Pinhead retracted the chains and the hooks,
And the Cenobites all jumped back into the box.
And the townspeople, saved by one kind little girl,
Were grateful to be still alive in the world.
But they heard Pinhead warn, as he faded from view:
“Open your hearts … or I’ll do it for you!”
* A parody of ‘Twas the Night before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore
~Previous Pinhead Christmases: