A Genre Writer's Christmas
It was the night before Christmas,
And this writer was busy plotting
When all of a sudden--
Her characters came to life!
There was the monster from her novel,
Chomping down on a tasty victim.
The hero appeared, stunning in purple;
Well, that's the writer's favorite color,
What did you expect: white?
He grabbed a sharpened pencil to duel with the fiend
When the heroine popped in midair and dropped down,
Into a container overflowing with paper clips.
Drowning, a clip in her mouth, she cried out for help,
And who do you think rescued her?
Not the hero, oh no!
He was trying to make time with a statue of a gargoyle,
That stood guard over the writer's laptop.
For he had a thing for beings made of stone.
The monster rushed right over in a flash,
Not to kill her or eat her,
No, with a gentle paw, he helped her up.
And arm in arm, both vanished to the monster's lair
Where in chapter eleven, they got it on hot and heavy.
The writer just shook her head
And with a click of the mouse, saved the story.
The hero dissipated, no more to be seen,
Well, not until chapter twelve anyway.
With a sigh, the writer stood, snatching up her coffee cup,
Time to join the family and reality,
The story could wait for another time.
Because it's Christmas after all:
Merry Christmas to all and to all, a magical night!