I came downstairs this morning, certain something waited for me.
Something bright and festive that made me want to flee.
I found it on my kitchen table, as artificial as my hair.
Its pink and spiny branches caught me unaware.
But worse was him who brought it, this awful Krampus tree.
For Santa doesn’t bring such things, they only come from likes of he!
He looked just like Tom Hiddleston, which really ain’t so bad,
until I caught a whiff o’ him. That smell would drive you mad.
He stank just like an aged camel, a geriatric steed
that on prunes and beans and rotted fish too eagerly did feed.
“What horror have you brought me? Oh why this Krampus bush?!
Haven’t I been good this year?! Haven’t I busted my tush?!”
“Oh yeah, you’ve been all kinds of good,” the old goat said and farted.
“But I really like to pick on folks, and be honest, you’re black-hearted.”
“Not me!” I cried in my defense. “I’ve been good this year, I swear!
I swear it on my mother’s grave and the color of my hair!”
“Don’t lie to me,” old Krampus said. “I know just what you did.
You’re a Girl Scout cookie mom. Who are you trying to kid?”
“I didn’t kill no Girl Scouts! I didn’t threaten their mums!”
Then I sighed and confessed my sins. “Maybe I broke some thumbs.”
“But there were extenuating circumstances! Cookie payments were due!
I had seven thousand boxes stored in a garage made for two!”
“So I threatened all the parents and I broke a couple thumbs!
But they finally sold those cookies, each and every one!”
“A few fractured digits does not a Krampus coniferous merit.
Take this horror away from me. I swear I cannot bear it!”
“Nah, broken thumbs is no big deal,” Krampus did agree.
“But I don’t like you anyway, so you get the bloody tree.”
And then he started to sing. Oh gods, he sang a song!
It was all about the Krampus tree, and I had to sing along…
“Oh Krampus tree, oh Krampus tree!
You are so pink and creepy!
Oh Krampus tree, oh Krampus tree!
The sight of you brings weeping!
Your branches hold such awful frights!
For horror-days and horror-nights!
Oh Krampus tree, oh Krampus tree!
You are so pink and creepy!”
“There!” he smiled and patted my head. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?
It’ll be much worse tomorrow,” he added as he farted.
He put a finger up his nose and waggled his left thumb.
“I’ll be back tomorrow, with some deco-ra-sheyuns!”
Then off he flew with a belch and a fart. I wished that I were dead.
Instead I’m stuck with this stupid tree, and a creeping sense of dread.
What horrors will tomorrow bring? And how long must I bare
This miserable Krampus tree? Life is so unfair.
Oh, the horror.
