I wish I could blame this on alcohol, but I don’t drink it.

East of New Jersey and West of St Ives
Is a town quite well hidden from non-clued in eyes,
Causing compasses spinning and map-reader woe —
The town is called Doglick. This is how things there go:

There’s people who follow symbolic life paths
And people with powers, long as they don’t take baths,
And hunters of rituals from bygone ages,
And people who read books by licking the pages.

Magick is open there, wild and free
(As long as you don’t let the passers-through see)
And somehow or other they’re all of good cheer
And get along in Doglick… at least, that’s what you hear.

Now religion and magick don’t often mix well,
Because magi get mad when told they’re going to hell.
These misgivings aside, holidays are accepted;
All holidays everywhere, none is rejected.

Hannukah’s followed by gematria dudes,
And St. Blaise day for those of Catholic attitudes,
Ramadan is followed by a person or two
And Easter is followed by quite a few,

But the most popular time is Christmas by far
You get drawn in no matter who or what you are
Since it centers on giving and laughter and song
And not just on some guy two thousand years gone.

All the dukes down in Doglick liked Christmas a lot,
Except for the power thief Tim, who did not.
Tim hated Christmas, the whole Christmas season!
And everyone who knew him suspected a different reason:

Jordan the warbuck thought he grew up deprived,
And the poverty in childhood left him scarred deep inside,
And every gift traded now that he was full grown
Reminded him of the glee that had never been his own.

On the other hand Vern who did tricks with tatoos
Laid the whole Christmas conflict on childhood abuse;
It was allergies said Alice, and gas according to Ed,
And Narqui William was stoned, so… uh… It doesn’t matter what HE said.

But I think the most likely reason of all,
Was with all this gift giving… there was no way to steal it all!

Well, whatever the reason, his past or bad gas,
He spent Christmas in his apartment, waiting for it to pass
(the holiday, not the gas, don’t get ahead of me here)
Until one Christmas Eve he started to sneer,

“Tomorrow is Christmas, now what do I do?
Just wait for it to blow over like the last year or thirty-two?
No, I’ve had quite enough of this Christmassy crap!
I must stop this Christmas from coming! So… how do I do that?”

So he paced and he paced till his floor was so thin
That the ceiling of Adam’s place below almost fell in
Till he got some ideas to apply to his scheme
But somehow each one had a problem, it seemed;

Kidnapping Santa was high on the list.
Of course it’s hard to catch someone who does not exist,
And plus if he did, he’d have magick on his side
That had NO KNOWN TABOO. And also, the flying sleigh ride.

Well, twas back to the drawing board and racking his brain
Till he stopped all the racking since it gave him a migraine
Because stopping Christmas seemed beyond all his powers…
So he kicked back and played Halo 2 for three hours.

After relaxing, he felt much less frayed,
And one final, ill thought out plan was okayed;
“From dusk until dawn I’ll raid each domicile
And every stolen gift will add to my mojo stockpile

Which I will use to steal more in what time I have left
Until Doglick’s whole population is bereft
Of gifts, presents, trinkets and holiday decor
And I won’t stop till there’s nothing to steal anymore!”

Of course there were flaws in this plan; most of all
Being Doglick was tiny but it wasn’t THAT small,
So Tim’d have to hustle to steal all the stuff.
And the thing about Tim’s hustle; it wasn’t enough.

“I’ll drive on my moped!” He said to himself,
And grabbing his lockpicks and map from the shelf
His dastardly, diabolical, disaster-headed plan
Took off on his moped, and the misadventures began:

At Ed’s auto shop where the past became now
His entrance was hindered by a steam powered cow
Built to great customers with merry tunes
And his exit was ruined by grease-covered baboons.

At Janet’s Bar and Grill, the wizened old drunk
Named Nicky finally fell of his stool with a THUNK
And his eggnog just happened to endanger Tim’s health
By making him slip and fall. It also foiled his stealth.

At Mary’s he had more success, at least mixed;
He made off with the VCR she just got fixed,
But the love pirate’s sex toys he couldn’t manage to catch,
Since…uh, in the interest of decency I’m not rhyming this line.

At John’s he was half-blinded, at Mike’s he gained a limp,
And at Roberto’s place dive-bombed by a small toy blimp
Piloted by Roberto’s Homonculus Clone
And it was about this time he gave up and went home.

His plans were in ruin by pure circumstance.
He suspected that a bodybag had foiled his chance
To steal all the gifts in the town… and while true
As regards to what happened, he was wrong about WHO…

He went back to his apartment and collapsed on the bed
Awaiting the sunrise with anger and dread
And the soupcon of mental disturbances collected
By every adept while their magick’s perfected,

Till a knock on the door brought him out of his funk
And he scurried around hiding all his stolen junk.
Then he answered the door and beheld in the hall
Nancy the Messenger who owned the pool hall;

She had brought him a mug of some steaming hot cider
And invited him out to watch the sunrise beside her.
At long last he accepted and out they did go
To see the first rays of sunlight on the Christmas Day snow.

As an adept who fixated on theft and possession,
Tim’s gift/Christmas link was an expected obsession,
And it took a cold night with hot drink and a girl
To realize his view didn’t fit the whole world.

A tough pill to swallow for a magician, it’s true,
But there’s something else just as correct, too.
In the Occult Underground, you get it in your head
That your way is not the only way FAST, or you’re dead.

But perhaps more important for magi of all schools
Is a fundamental part of the cosmos’s rules:
Everything’s permitted and nothing is free,
But that shit doesn’t matter when you happen to be

Sitting on a snowy hill during Christmas morning
And VCR-related mojo has left your head roaring,
And with you on the hill is a friend true-and-true.
Especially when your friend’s a girl… a very hot girl… and she’s romantically interested in you.

Happy holidays!

-UVX