Twas the Night Before Christmas…Star Trek Style

A Star Trek The Next Generation Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the armourery securely,
In hope that no alien would get up that early.

The crewmen were nestled all sung in their bunks
(Except for the few who were partying drunks)
And Picard in his nightshirt, and Bev in her lace,
Had just settled down for a neat face to face…

When out in the hall there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pant and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the turbos and shouted “Deck One!”

The bridge red-alert lights, which flashed through the din,
Gave a lustre of Hades to objects within.
When, what on the viewscreen, our eyes should behold,
But a weird kind of sleigh, and some guy who looked old.

But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew,
That we knew in a moment it had to be Q.
His sleigh grew much larger as closer he came.
Then he zapped on the bridge and addressed us by name:

“It’s Riker, It’s Data, It’s Worf and Jean-Luc!
It’s Geordi, and Wesley, the genetic fluke!
To the top of the bridge, to the top of the hall!
Now float away! Float away! Float away all!”

As leaves in the autumn are whisked off the street,
So the floor of the bridge came away from our feet,
And up to the ceiling, our bodies they flew,
As the captain called out,”what the Hell is this, Q?!”

The prankster just laughed and expanded his grin,
And, snapping his fingers, he vanished again.
As we took in our plight, and were looking around,
The spell was removed, and we crashed to the ground.

Then Q, dressed in fur from his head to his toe,
Appeared once again, to continue the show.
“That’s enough!” cried the captain, “You’ll stop this at once!”
And Riker said, “Worf, take aim at this dunce!”

“I’m deeply offended, Jean-Luc” replied Q,
“I just wanted to celebrate Christmas with you.”
As we scoffed at his words, he produced a large sack.
He dumped out the contents and took a step back.

“I’ve brought gifts,” he said, “just to show I’m sincere.
There’s something delightful for everyone here.”
He sat on the floor, and dug into the pile,
And handed out gifts with his most charming smile:

“For Counsellor Troi, there’s no need to explain.
Here’s Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain.
For Worf I’ve some mints, as his breath’s not too great
And for Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date.”

For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-plus;
For Data, a joke book, for Riker a truss.
For Beverly Crusher, there’s sleek lingerie,
And for Jean-Luc, the thrill of just seeing her that way.”

And he sprang to his feet with that grin on his face
And, clapping his hands, disappeared into space.
But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from
sight, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!”

Funny Christmas Poem, A Politically Correct Christmas Story

This funny Christmas poem makes fun of the times we live in.  It’s called A Politically Correct Christmas Story.  The author is anonymous.

‘Twas the night before Christmas and Santa’s a wreck…
How to live in a world that’s politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to “Elves”.
“Vertically Challenged” they were calling themselves.
And labour conditions at the North Pole
were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their rooftops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called “Unenlightened.”

And to show you the strangeness of life’s ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorised use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she’d enough of this life,

Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he’d never had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.

Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim, Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamoured or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls, or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that’s warlike or non-pacifistic.

No candy or sweets…they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football…someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So Santa just stood there, dishevelled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.

He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you’ve got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.

A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere…even you.
So here is that gift, it’s price beyond worth…
May you and your loved ones, enjoy peace on Earth.