THURSDAY - UP ON THE ROOFTOPS
Quiz Master

 Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the city,

Not a villain was stirring, not even Black Kitty.

I stood on a rooftop overlooking the place,

Twirling my staff and posing with grace.

I practiced my monologues, all sorted and said,

As dreams of great villainy danced in my head.

I buttoned my jacket, and tightened my mask,

Patted my breast pocket... Oh, there’s my flask.

Now, most don’t commit a Christmas-time caper.

Not Mandroid, not Malware, not even Ice Scraper.

Away with them all. They call me ‘disaster,’

But soon they’ll all know the name, ‘Quiz Master.’

“Why are you here, a-raising such a clatter?”

Spoke a voice from afar, “You’re mad as a hatter.”

Then I turned and I looked, as quick as a flash,

And yelled, “Who goes there, you impudent trash!”

The light of the moon fell on gritty-old snow

And cast a bleak hue on the streets far below,

When, what through my drunken haze should I see?

But a lumbering shadow, dark and beastly.

With a quick little move, despite all its girth

It jumped from roof to roof, in menacing mirth.

I knew in a moment who it must be,

For who else would be out on Christmas Eve.

“I’ve seen Smasher, Killmancer, and even Dark Vixen.

I’ve known Grommet the Stupid, Miss Honor, and Nixon.

You’re nothing! You’re weak! Talk about gaul.

Dash! Dash away, or I’ll make this a brawl.”

“I know you!” I spoke, “I know your name.

You act tough, but you shake like a bowlful of shame.

Your gimmick is weak, it's full of flaws.

What villain names himself, Satan Klaus?”

And then with a laugh, his eyes glowed red,

He snapped his black whip straight at my head.

I swung my staff with-a flourish and quip,

But then it fell off the roof as I... lost my grip.

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his toe.

With clothes painted black like some murderous crow.

His beady little eyes were as cold as ice,

And he looked like a killer of both naughty and nice.

His cheeks were like ash, his nose was all hairy,

The stains on his hands were as red as cherry.

His troll-like mouth was drawn in a sneer,

Beneath a beard colored blacker than fear.

A stump of a cigar held in crooked teeth,

Poured noxious smog like some sickly heath.

His face was all sharp. He had a big fat middle,

That quivered when he cackled like an off-key fiddle.

My hands shook at the sight of this vicious elf,

So I took out my flask to steady myself.

A wink of his eye and I flinched like a sheep.

I spilled all my drink and collapsed in a heap.

My gimmicks poured out, just some jokes and tubes,

I even lost my explosive Rubik's Cubes.

“So this is it?” I wailed” This is how it ends?”

I die a drunk D-lister without any friends.”

A sack of brown leather clung to his back,

He reached in with menace. I braced for attack,

But what he pulled forth was not what I thought

For in his hand, he held the one thing I sought.

He held out the bottle with a knowing smirk,

“Go crawl into this, and leave me to my work.

Christmas is my night, not fit for some rookies.

Now leave, or I’ll eat you with my milk and cookies.”

I spoke not a word as I scrambled from sight,

Just thankful that I fled without a big fight.

Then with one last laugh, he started to sway

And shot to the sky, to a blood-red sleigh.

He gave a sharp whistle as it sprang into action.

With flames and hell beasts to give it some traction.

And I heard him proclaim as he drove with a yell,

“Merry Christmas to none. You can all go to hell!”