Sinister: Sad Little Christmas Pies

[Chris Leonard]

Here is a Christmas story, for some reason I am in a Christmassy mood. 
  As usual it is entirely fictional from my head, and any similarities 
are unintentional.  Oh and there's quite a lot of naughty swearies. 
  You have been warned.

Oh and Ronan, thanks for voting me for next weeks poem, but 
unfortunately I have already been 'it' and I only know one poem. 
  Feel free to choose another more worthy person.

Sad Little Christmas Pies
===================

Background:
Everyone knows that in order to be a proper pop star you have to have 
your own hall.  Our Stuart has his little church hall and  Stephen 
Pastel has a Masonic hall (lodge 710 glasgow north)

Story:

One frosty Morning in December our Stuart was doing a bit of sweeping 
up round his hall.   "Ow , how I wove Chwistmas, I dwo I dwo I dwo and 
I wove happy dweams and pwesents and santa clwaus", he sang to 
himself.  "And this Chwistmas will be extwa extwa special, cause on 
Chwistmas eve evewy young cawol singer in Glasgow will come to my hall 
for mince pwie.  Hooway!!!".

Stephen Pastel happened to be walking by and he overheard the 
excitement.  He ran in the hall and pinned our Stuart up right up 
against the pwaise the lord sign.  "Aye, that'll be fuckin right. 
 Everyone's comin to ma lodge, ye daft wee cunt.  And I'm gonna charge 
them a pound a pie.  I'll make a fuckin fortune.  Am I gonna have to 
pummel yer heed again?  ya wee jobby".

"No no  Sweven, evwyone pwomised they'd come here after the wovely 
swinging about the little baby jesus for fwee pies for eveewyone - 
#away in a wanger no cwip for a beeeeeeed the little lword 
jeeesu#..ow".  Stephen Pastel proceeded to punch our Stuart till he 
cried.  As he left he threatened "you'd better tell them there all 
comin to ma lodge or else I'll fuckin have you and burn yer hall down, 
ya useless wee SHITE".

Stuart was understandably upset.   He knew that if all the carol 
singers went to Stephen Pastels lodge they'd have a miserable time. 
 Since they were boys Stephen had bullied Stuart, and would definetely 
burn down the church hall if he didn't get his way.  "I have to stwop 
him", little Stuart decided.  "I need a pwan".

December the 24th arrived.  Stephen turned up at the church hall with 
a big whip, some petrol and some matches.   He stood outside the front 
door.   "ARE YOU THERE?  CAN YA HEAR ME YA WEE CUNT?  YOU HAVNAE TOLD 
ANYONE THAT THEY'RE COMIN TO MA LODGE FOR THEIR PIES HAVE YA, YA 
SELFISH WEE BASTARD.  I'M GONNA FUCKIN BURN DOWN YER HALL FOR THAT, YA 
WEE SHITE."

"Oh no youw're not".  Stuart jumped down from a twee.  "GET HIM, MY 
WITTLE FWIENDS!".  Loads of foxes and sparrows ran out from inside the 
church hall and proceeded to eat Stephen Pastel.  He tried to kung fu 
them off, but there were just to many.   In a matter of minutes, there 
was nothing but bones which melted into the ground till he was dead. 

"Thwank you swo swo much, my wittle buddies.  Now evewyone can come 
here for there pwies.  Oh I wove chwistmas I dwo I dwo I dwo.  And I 
wove wittle foxes and wittle spawwos and the wittle baby jesus."

That night all the carol singers went to the Church hall and ate pies. 
  And they were good.

THE END





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