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When Timmy Met The Claus

Updated on April 17, 2015

Little Timmy saw The Claus when he was small.

Shiveringly remembered now he heard the booming call that night.

Frightening and loud it was, a distant thunder’s rumble.

His dad froze still and swore,

His mother dropped the crumble.

The pudding strewn across floor, all the family paused and stared, for through the hor-cracked glass from distant lapland come, the Claus himself did pointed-glare and eye them some.

The frost before him thawed in awe and o’er his back that sack of toys seemed monstrous in its shape and size.

It wriggled as if it were alive.

The Claus then raised a hand, be-ringed and fingered, five. And knocked upon the window pane as he stood there in the drive.

“Bloody hell!” said Timmy’s dad, cigar in hand, now on his feet.

“Well that’s just grand!” sighed Timmy’s mom, “I’m glad I saved a seat!”

She said it like it all was planned! That Claus was come to feast!

“Oh let the poor man enter in!” Timmy’s mom then cried. She laughed at Timmy’s wonderment, held secrets in her eyes.

“And poor the Claus a tot of rum, I’ll get the best mince pies!”

Timmy stared in fear, amazed. His father ushered in the guest.

Pies of sweetened pastry crust were laid before his eyes.

A hefty tot of warming drink into his hand was pressed,

and gratefully he knocked it back “Now let this house be blessed! I thought you’d leave me out all night!” he chuckled, eyeing the crumbly mess.

“Well, you gave me quite a fright!” admitted Timmy’s mom.

“I’d quite forgot with all this fuss, that you’d said you’d come.”

“Well now I’m here” said Claus most grandly, “Bearing gifts, I’ll have you know!”

He carefully laid down the sack which twitched and shed some snow.

Timmy gazed in fearful wonder as the bearded chap untied, and pulled the writhing bag asunder.

From the depths there came a howl as from beyond the deathly vale and Timmy glimpsed two gleaming eyes as dark as he was pale.

“What on earth could that thing be?” co-conspired his mother, even as The Claus’ mits forced him near his Other. For in young Timmy’s mind he’d seen this was his nemesis to-be. All his sins had taken form in this, his enemy.

Timmy broke from Claus’s grasp and screaming fled the room, wailing and embittered that so soon he’d met his doom.

“It’s only a bloody puppy!” yelled his gramps behind the beard, God the thing did itch somewhat. “What’s with all the tears?”

“He’s sensitive” his mother ‘said. “I don’t know where he gets it from!”

“Well bugger this !” said gramps, put out. “Pass the bloody rum!”

An Audio Recording

I have yet to figure out how to put SoundCloud links in here, so until that occasion arises I must offer apologies and say: Should you wish to listen to this poem as read by the author please feel free to look up "When Timmy Met The Claus" on Soundcloud were I have recently uploaded the mp3. If you are more clever than me and have figured out how to link SoundCloud tracks to hubs I would be indebted if you could share the trick with me :)

Anyway - To any readers who have chanced upon this little piece of fun, I hope you enjoyed it and have a very Merry Christmas! :)


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    • Dan Barfield profile imageAUTHOR

      Dan Barfield 

      3 years ago from Gloucestershire, England, UK

      Thanks for the comments David Trujillo and Lee Cloak - apologies for the late response - have been busy with a newborn son :)

    • profile image

      Lee Cloak 

      3 years ago

      A really good poem, very interesting stuff, voted uo, thanks, Lee

    • David Trujillo profile image

      David Trujillo Uribe 

      3 years ago from Medellin, Colombia

      Good and obscure poem. Loved the first Santa photo


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