Poetry by Dythandra

Satan's Little Helper

'Twas two weeks before Xmas
And I made the mistake
Of choosing the mall
As a shortcut to take.

I'd forgotten the crush,
The stench of the crowd
And the holiday music
Played annoyingly loud.

Still, I must carry on,
Now the decision is made
'Nought to fear in these shops
Why should I be afraid?

Sure I'm thinner, I'm darker,
More nocturnal than most
But I'd chill with Jack Skellington
Or Scrooge's chain-rattlin' ghost.

I'm two-thirds of the way
Through the holiday madness
When a sight fills my heart
With some holiday gladness.

She was just a year older,
When I, a troubled sophomore,
Was sent by well-meaning others
Through the peer counseling door.

She attempted to "reach me"
Her advice was unheeded,
'Til one day she discovered
'Twas just friendship I needed.

Things then gradually got better,
And I thought she was great,
We'd share hopes and our dreams
On our weekly lunch date.

Still it felt like a dagger
When a boy she might mention,
See, she thought we were friends,
But I had other intentions.

Sadly my mentor was
Taken from me,
By repercussions arising
From unplanned pregnancy.

I suggested she end it--
"Go see Planned Parenthood",
But her Catholic parents,
Thought that wasn't so good.

So without one goodbye
Due to all of this drama
My friend suddenly vanished
To go live with her Grandma.

Now two years have passed,
Since she was torn from my side,
But here she's running toward me,
And she's clutching her side.

"Oh hi--it's Dythandra..."
She gasps out a name,
That others dismissed
As a silly girl's game.

I nod, she continues;
"Long time no see,"
I ask her what's wrong
But she suddenly flees.

I follow behind her
To the washroom--she's quick
There she spends the next minutes
Being violently sick.

While I'm trying to help her
I think to myself
Why is this poor sickly girl
Dressed up like an elf?

"Can you help me?" she moans
When the spasms have expired,
"If I go home on a Saturday,
I think I'll be fired."

She goes on to explain
'Bout her gainful employ
Taking photos of Santa
With young girls and young boys.

Had it been anyone else,
I'd have rejected the plea
But one look in those eyes
Simply mesmerized me.

I was troubled to remember
How I missed the warning
When two years before,
She'd get sick every morning.

And as if she could read,
My thoughts as they grew,
She looked up and assured me
"It's only the flu."

Then as if in a dream,
And in spite of myself
I was suddenly clad
In the garb of an elf.

The kids were excited,
Loud, rambunctious, elated
While St. Nick just sat there,
In a job that he hated.

"What should I ask for?"
So many they wonder,
And with the worst of intentions
I deliberately blunder.

"Try asking your father
To come straight home from work,
When he lives at the bar,
It just proves he's a jerk.

Or tell mommy to buy you
A new bike instead,
Of treatments that botox
The lines on her head.

Better yet, ditch this place
With its sentiments fake,
And spend holiday cash
Where a difference you'll make.

Some nice cosy blankets
Would surely be pleasing
For the folks who on cold
Downtown streets are found freezing.

Or send a donation
To those folks who try
To give the impoverished
A safe water supply."

Alarmed at my sentiments,
As I burst her kid's bubble,
One mom fetches the manager
To come give me trouble.

"Hey, you're the not the one
Where's the regular elf?"
Clearly he'd never hire
One so strange as myself."

"Leave that poor girl alone,"
A deep voice suddenly rumbles,
Santa stands up and a child
From his knee gently tumbles.

"Stay out of this Jack,"
He dismisses St. Nick,
His target is chosen
And he'll finish me quick.

"No I won't," Santa says
With a gleam in his eye,
"If you get rid of her,
Then I'm saying goodbye.

I've sat here quite meekly
And watched you destroy,
The true meaning of Christmas,
To sell a few toys."

The manager's ready
To shout at this Claus,
When he's stopped by the sound
Of bystanders' applause.

"Nevermind." Then he's gone
Santa gives me high five,
And goes back to his place
Now more strangely alive.

I'm thankful, though his good will
Might sorely be tested,
If he remembered last year
I nearly had him arrested.

I feel I've been weak,
And it's rather annoying
That I've given voice to thoughts
That I usually find cloying

Just don't get used to the change
That you've seen in myself,
It just must be that I'm dressed
Like a stupid store elf.

Or perhaps that a girl
Whom I once had been stalking
Just happened to be
In the mall I was walking.

My next poem won't be pathetic
It's just holiday timing,
I despise sentiment
And I really hate rhyming.