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The Frump Who Sold Christmas

Frump

Illustration: Steven Michaels

22 December 2016

All the Foolze down in Foolzville like Foolzville a lot,

But the Frump who lived North of Foolzville did not.

The Frump hated Foolzville! The whole blasted swamp!

And he vowed he would drain it, in one wild romp!

For doing so, he said he had lots of reasons.

And he began planning all Christmas Season.

And some say the most likely reason of all

Had something to do with hand sizes too small!

But whatever the reasons,

Whatever the ruse,

He stood there, inaugural, hating the Foolze!

 

“Tomorrow is Christmas!” he said with a pout!

“I wonder if Yutin will give me some clout?”

Yutin the turtle had much on his plate.

He and the Frump were friends, ain’t that great?

The Frump called dear Yutin

And said with a grin,

“Ain’t it amazing!  I just love to win!”

And Yutin did laugh with a heart full of pride

And said in an accent, “Frump, you da guy!”

 

“For over 35 years I’ve been wheelin’ and dealin’

Not to mention the legal IRS cheatin’,”

Said the Frump to his pal over the wire.

“And only half of them still think I’m liar.

But EVERY Foolze down in Foolzville

Will help me, I say!

All I need do is: sell off Christmas Day!

 

“While they’re busy with shopping and making the noise,

I’ll be planning and selling with tons of great joy!

And the Foolze will be sitting and having a feast.

While mine will be greater, to just say the least!

And I can’t wait to hear them start singing my praises!

For all of this work, the jobs, and the raises!

That is a sound I will just love to hear!”

And with that, the Old Frump

Looked about at his peers.

 

Then he got an idea.

The Frump got a wonderful,

Albeit awful idea!

 

“I know just what to do!” laughed the Frump to himself

“I’ll recruit all my buddies, so they can play elf!

Like my pal with the oil, he can keep the world safe.

And my goomba will look great in a spy’s flashy cape!

And those generals I said I knew much, much more than

Will help me devise great and not so half-baked plans!”

 

Then he chortled and clucked, with a smile most unpleasant,

He toured the whole country and talked to the peasants!

And they talked about gun rights and bipartisan laws!

They talked about health care and all of its flaws!

They talked about China and Mexico, too!

For much of Frump troubles were not quite a few.

 

“Ain’t Christmas grand?” he said to factory workers.

For he believed that America was not made of shirkers!

And he vowed to create more jobs than the man,

Who sat in the chair he had robbed from the land.

No. Not robbed. It was won fair and square

On the backs of the blue collar turtles and bears.

 

And it’s true that the welfare class had little to say.

For some of them wanted to keep it their way.

And most of them prayed that he would leave them some crumbs

For housing and food stamps—you know, marginal sums.

 

It was a quarter to January...

All the Foolze still a-daze

All the Foolze still a-snooze

When he prepared for the stage.

Packed up with promises! Speeches! Some lies!

A hidden agenda? No, just compromise!

In the pale of the lawn and 1600 feet from it,

By golly, he finally, had wonderfully trumped it!

 

“Pooh pooh to the Foolze,” he was frumpishly humming.

Soon all of the Congress will know that I’m coming!

They’re finding out now that my plan was so great!

That I bought and I paid for the whole legislate!

Their pockets will hang out a minute or two

Then the Foolze down in Foolzville will all cry BOO HOO!

 

“That’s a sound,” grinned the Frump

That I simply MUST hear.

So he paused. And the Frump put a hand to his ear.

For he did hear a sound rising below

And it was a sound that wanted to grow!

But the sound wasn’t sad,

Why this sound sounded angry!

And it was

rather angry

No, not RATHER

But very.

 

At first, off he shrugged it.

For this, too he could trump it!

But alas and alack, all men have their doubts

And he puzzled and puzzled and puzzled about!

“Maybe I sold Christmas for not enough profit?

Maybe I should not, you know, have done it?”

And he puzzled until his puzzler was sore:

“Maybe America means just a little bit more

Than big tax breaks mixed with holiday cheer...

Maybe America really can be great this year!”

 

And what happened then, in Foolzville they say,

Democracy was what saved the day.

For Frump could keep planning and scheming a lot

But the Foolze, you see, had never forgot

That freedom of speech and freedom to vote

Were stronger than any Frump  or scapegoat!

 

And the Frump’s tiny hands did sign away bills,

But the Foolze, yes the Foolze maintained the good people's will...

 

So this Christmas, after you've written to Claus,

Keep hold of your pen and tell the Man of your cause!

For the pen should prove yet mightier still

Than any ONE person on Capitol Hill!

 


Steven Michaels was a hopeless and optimistic fool until the recent election.  He is the author of Sweet Life of Mystery: The Misadventures of a Panicky Private Eye, a parody of the genre in case the title didn't give it away! He is currently working on an anthology with other local authors in Western Massachusetts, along with independent work on his grandmother's memoir, which he has vowed not to publish until at least three or four family members forget he exists.