NIGHTMARE ON 34TH STREET: A XMAS GROTESQUE

Words + Music by Geordie McElroy

***

Part 1

What is the color of Christmas?

The white of untouched snow?

The green of a Douglas Fir

Or ceaseless mistletoe?

Could it be the red of stockings?

Or yule-log’s golden breath?

No. The color of Christmas is black

Black of a moonless winter's night

The black of coal in the abyss

The black of death

***

Koopman’s Department Store presents:

The 12 Days of Christmas

Grand Parade to city conveyed

This season big business

Announcer from Channel Thirteen

Mic picked up howling wind

Nor’easter of the century

From Greenland rolling in

Each float branded to perfection

Each with a sponsored theme

Franzenstein gingerbread houses

Toscani nativity scenes

They rolled along 34th street

Up to Koopman’s revolving door

Where Steve and his wife Portia throned

King and Queen of the store

A masterpiece of art nouveau

Engulfing block, tower

Dazzling retail cathedral

Where hard won coin showered

The windows full of season’s displays

Gorgeous crystalline glass

Each winter fantasies

Available for cash

Announcer spoke up: “Here she comes

It’s Mercedes Koopman

Steve and Portia’s only daughter

With her vocal debut”

The pre-teen rode high on a float

Promoting her own brand

Hawking neon fast fashion

And song without a band

Just as Mercedes started up

Before her vocals dropped

Announcer said: “Wait… here comes Santa Claus?

And he’s coming in hot”

Santa revved red convertible

Madness flashed in his eyes

He aimed full speed for Koopman’s store

Mercedes forced to dive

The crash destroyed the singer’s float

As Santa stripped his clothes

Revealing a Satan suit beneath

To the crowd he exposed

Something from out of his waistband

From crotch depth fustiness

He waved it around and yodeled:

“The hammer of justice!”

With hardware Santa Claus screaming:

“You bourgeois pigs must die

This one goes out to you, my Pearl”

Blue-haired girl averted eyes

He raised the groin-secreted tool

Shattered Koopman’s displays

Screamed about theory of labor

And radical cliches

Christian protestors turned their backs

So-called allies turned...

NIGHTMARE ON 34TH STREET: A XMAS GROTESQUE

Words + Music by Geordie McElroy

Part Two

***

Portia hosted at Koopman’s cafe

A rich, aggressive bunch

Muffy Von Klump and Luz De La Cruz

These the ladies who lunch

“Delish! This dish… simply divine!”

“Bold boreal terroir!”

Caribou tartare, pine resin wine

Chowing down reindeer raw

“Tell me where you found your Santa”

“The line is out the door”

“Parents love him, kids terrified”

“And they keep coming back for more”

“Oh him? He’s Koopman’s special sauce

Says his name is Ruprecht”

“Your glass snow globe is filled with dough”

“The man commands respect”

A parent lugged her screaming child

Ruprecht hushed in his ear

Then youngin’ turned a sickly shade

Silent, quaking with fear

“Mercedes, won’t you see to Alfonso

Luz’s newly adopted son

Fresh from Mali? Or was it Malawi?

Some dump from whence he comes?”

“Go take him to Christmas Village

To sit on Ruprecht’s lap”

Mercedes cried: “That’s not Santa Claus

He doesn’t wear a patch”

Portia feigned shame before the gals

“Mercedes don’t talk back

Alfonso doesn’t know any better…

…Santa is handicapped”

I always wanted to adopt

Open my heart and home

I’ve got that idiot Izzy

Won’t move out, full grown”

“Oh yes…” said Muffy, “…Isidore

We caught his performance

A shame he soiled your parade

And lost those endorsements”

Luz pointed to the globe and said:

“Charity has two forms

The kind l have for Alfono

The other type performs”

***

Dunn stewed in silent apartment

Countless beer cans crushed

A Christmas tree 13 years dead

Ornaments cloaked in dust

He stared at Portia Koopman’s name

And cleaned his .22

Perused surveillance photographs

Silencer clockwise screwed

Dunn studied the plans for the store

Swigged down Peppermint Schnapps

No sense in procrastination

When assassins are cops

Dunn got a call from foot patrol

The North Star life raft found

In a sewer deep beneath city streets

In Koopman’s part of town

Dunn saddled up and slugged down rum

One-forty proof cologne

Heading down to Portia’s store

Kill two birds with one stone

***

Izzy hung out in the warehouse

These were his type of folk

Honest work from sweat of the brow

Clearly thought him...

NIGHTMARE ON 34TH STREET: A XMAS GROTESQUE

Words + Music by Geordie McElroy

Part 3

Secret Santa’s crossed off the list

Drug dealers, arsonists, thieves

Necrophiliacs and mountebanks

Cops excised disease

Bodies found in alleyways

Sedan trunks by the docks

Arcades, bars, overpriced condos

In a playground sandbox

Some with bullets between the eyes

Some had jugulars ripped

Some injected with tree frog venom

Some dumped in ditches, stripped

Bodies piled high down at the morgue

As the winter weather cooled

Coroner ruled them accidents

Homicide had all fooled

***

Portia lunched with Muffy and Luz

“What a story to tell

Here’s my latest acquisition

Ladies, behold Noel”

“Isn’t she the waif you booted?”

“Yes, indeed, she’s the thief

Caught her in my charity globe

I gave the orphan relief”

“We welcomed her into our home

Hope she comes to trust us

This is what charity truly is:

Restorative justice”

“The criminal system is a mess

Trust me, group homes broken

So, I adopted this delinquent

You just took in tokens”

“Mercedes, please take our Noel

To sit on Ruprecht’s lap

Sure she love to tell him about

Dodging criminal wrap”

***

Mercedes paraded casting

Elbows and aspersions

To anyone blocking her way

Departments transversing

Noel followed at the girl’s heels

Into Christmas village

They cut the line and found Ruprecht

Koopman’s family privilege

“Excuse me, sir,” Noel piped up

“They say your name’s Ruprecht

But I’ve been watching you closely

Suspect that’s incorrect”

“Is your true name really St. Nick?

You seem to be the source

Of all those legends about him

I could be wrong, of course”

“Someone has been using your name

Your reputation’s heft

To drain the youth from orphan girls

Until there’s nothing left”

Ruprecht stared at the young orphan

And asked: “Are you the one?”

But then their rendezvous cut short

In walked Lt. Dunn

He flashed his badge, approached Ruprecht

The line drew to a halt

“Last night, what were your whereabouts?

Do you know Jacques Perrault?”

Noel spotted the flashing shield

She turned, in terror ran

Was this the goon from the North Pole?

The man who took Roxanne?

Portia stopped the inquisition

“What’s the meaning of...