Wednesday, December 24, 2008

LT161: My Lost Christmas Decoration

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the hatch
not a creature was stirring, especially that guy with a patch.
The foodstuffs were arranged on shelves with care,
in hopes that they were safe from Hurley or a bear.

The Survivors were nestled all snug in their dread,

while visions of rescue danced in their heads.
And Ben in his parka, and John as his sap,
they just settled their brains for a long time gap.

When out on the beach there arose such a clatter,

Each sprang from their tent to see what was the matter.
Away to the tent flap they flew like a flash,
tore open the cover, and threw up last night’s hash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

gave the luster of midday to objects below,
when, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
but a frozen landscape somewhere on this sphere.

Then a little odd Hostile, so lively and quick,

They knew in a moment it was that airline attendant chick.
More rapid than Smokey, Cindy ran like a flame,
and she whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Bernie! Now Rosie!
Now, Sawyer and Claire!
On, Juliet! On, Charlotte!
On, Miles and Daniel!
To the top of the igloo!
To the top of the wall!
Come look! Come look!
Come, look at this all!"

As slumber left them like wild hurricanes fly,
they figured another obstacle, and they were surely to die
So up to the igloo-top the Survivors they flew,
with the tinge of winter cold, and St. Mary statues too.

And then, in a twinkling, they heard on the cold
the sound of laughter, happy and bold.
As they listened intently and was turning around,
on the horizon came a stranger all with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Dharma Beer he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the black smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump,
a right jolly old elf,
and they laughed when they saw him,
in spite of their self.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave them to know they had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled each hand with a beer,
then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, he shook in his clothes.

He cleared his throat quietly, to his audience he said,
“My name is Jacob and you’ve finally moved my island this night
You might think you’ve been rescued, but that isn’t quite right.”

“It is merely a dream that the electromagnetic put in your head.
A break from the trauma, the bears and the fright,
You are still stranded, try as you might.”

“So, enjoy the gift from the island as you slip back to bed,
You’ll be back to the ocean soon and your terrible plight,
But for one brief moment I’ll give you this sight,”

“And Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"


A week later someone picks up a snow globe that shows an island scene. They give it a final shake and then set in on a storage shelf. The person continues packing away the Christmas cheer and slides this box of decorations on the top. It pushes the snow globe off of the back. And behind the shelves the decoration will remain LOST.


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