This is my non-winning entry for Amazon’s ‘new Night Before Christmas’ contest. I had loads of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas to you all, and thanks for following my blog – it means a lot.
It was Christmas Eve night. Santa’s magical sled,
Slid through the sky as the world slept in bed.
He stopped on the roof of a nearby house,
And dropped down the chimney, quiet as a mouse.
Santa looked round the room, placed the presents on the floor,
Stepped his way through the hall to the kitchen door.
He expected the usual; a mince pie, maybe sherry,
And then he’d leave feeling really quite merry.
Instead, on the table, was quite a surprise,
A mince pie, yes, but a shock for the eyes,
For this pie was wide as an elephant’s thighs.
No, bigger, huger, like the mouth of a cave,
And almost as tall as a tidal wave.
The pie sat astride a humungous white plate,
The table legs trembled beneath its tonne weight.
Santa’s eyes became wide, what was he to do?
How many pies had he eaten that night? More than a few.
In fact he’d lost count after two hundred and two.
And now there was this, how could he digest it?
And yet he had to, the kids would expect it.
Indeed, beside the pie was a note.
Written by young Jenny and Johnny Heathcoat.
The girl and the boy who were sleeping upstairs,
And both unaware of Santa’s despair.
Santa picked up the note. ‘Dear Santa,’ it said,
‘We are both fast asleep in our beds.
We have baked you this pie, we know it’s quite big.
But our daddy says that you eat like a pig.’
Santa frowned at this, his brow became furrowed.
‘Your father,’ he thought, ‘is a bit of a toad.’
‘And so we made it as big as could be.
It’s based on a recipe by Mary Berry,
But we changed the amounts, to make it gigantic.’
True, Santa pondered, he had seen nothing like it.
‘We used eight jars of mincemeat and twelve bags of flour,
And nine bags of sugar, so it wouldn’t taste sour.
And instead of one egg, we used thirty-four.
We could hardly close the oven door.
We do hope you like our massive mince pie,
And it keeps you full as you fly through the sky.
We won’t stay up to see you (Jenny’s really quite shy),
Instead we’ll finish this letter – Merry Christmas, bye bye!’
Santa approached the pie with some trepidation.
And then with a flash – inspiration!
He went to the window and beckoned his reindeer.
Who peered down from the roof. Santa said, ‘All clear,
But I need your help, please, with a giant mince pie.
It’s nearly the same size as the sky.’
Rudolph looked doubtful. Was this the truth?
But still they flew on down from the roof.
Their eyes grew wide. ‘Look at that!’ slobbered Vixen.
Whose tummy rumbled loudest? Why, it was Blitzen.
The deer just couldn’t hold themselves back,
And they charged at the pie, their jaws going clack.
And then, with just a few seconds gone,
Where once there was pie, now there was none.
Just eight full-up reindeer, swollen of tummy.
And Santa, frowning once more. This wasn’t funny.
‘You ate it all!’ he moaned. ‘That’s not fair!’
And he despondently sat on a chair.
‘I asked for your help, to get me out of a spot.
But I didn’t expect you to eat the whole lot.
I wanted to try it, I wanted a taste.
But you just gobbled it up, and that’s such a waste.’
The reindeer listened, but were too full to care.
And Santa knew it was time to get out of there.
He went back to the lounge for one final check
To make sure the presents delivered were correct,
Then popped back up the chimney, the reindeer were waiting.
He’d been here long enough, no more abating.
He sat in the sleigh and flicked at the reigns.
The reindeer moved, but under some strain.
Their bellies were heavy and flying was tricky.
And Dasher and Prancer felt rather icky.
Away they flew, across the night sky.
But the reindeer no longer felt very spry.
They looked rather ill. And as the clouds whipped by,
Santa was glad he hadn’t eaten that pie.