How the Gingrinch Stole Christmas!

It was because his heart was three sizes too small and his head two sizes too big.

*

You see, the Gingrinch hated everyone, but he hated the Whos more,

Because those Whos were essentially poor.

“Let me tell you,” The Gingrinch said, “why poor kids are mostly jerks.

It’s because no one ever taught them how to work.

*

It’s not like their parents are working two to three jobs.

All they want to do is sell drugs and rob.”

It was almost December and Christmas was near;

Soon the Whos would be celebrating without care.

*

“Why should these poor people be happy when their lives don’t cut the mustard?”

The Gingrinch started to become quite flustered and disgusted.

All the Whos would soon be down there showing each other the gifts that they got.

But the Gingrinch knew Christmas was just a socialist plot.

*

These Whos, he thought, can’t get these goods by themselves

So they must now rely on a redistribution of wealth.

He fumed so much that he needed his mind to settle.

So the Gingrinch went to Tiffany’s to buy his mistress some precious metals.

*

That didn’t work, he needed an idea.

A big awful, horrible, terrible idea.

Ruining their celebration required meditation

And some very serious intellectual masturbation.

*

After some time an idea popped into his head:

“Fire the school janitors and hire children instead!

They’ll work by threes, they’ll work by twos.

Blacks, whites, Indians and Jews.

*

It matters not their religion, their background or race.

Poor children scrubbing floors puts a smile on my face.

They’ll work long hours until they’re twisted, knotted and loopdid.

Child labor laws are fundamentally stupid.”

*

Let them operate the boiler room, shine the toilets and prune the trees from top branch to root.

Let them come home at night all covered in grease, dirt and soot.

From kindergarten age to children six and seven feet tall,

No child is too young, no child is too small.”

*

The Gingrinch traveled Whoville telling the Whos what he had in store,

What he had in store for the Whos who were poor.

He gave long boring lectures full of history that was dubious.

The Whos looked at the Gingrinch like, “This guy serious?”

*

He needed just one Who, one Who to follow through.

Up stepped a young Who named Cindy Lou Who.

Cindy Lou was a small thing, couldn’t be a year over five.

“Hire me to clean my school of all the dirt and the jive.

*

My parents barely make enough to keep me alive.”

The Gingrinch replied, “It’s often the youngest who are the most wise,”

He said this with a stupid, smug smile.

And Cindy Lou was spit shining toilets before a short while.

*

More little Who children signed up day after day,

Buffering the floors for very low pay.

The janitor union fought back, but the Gingrinch said they couldn’t be trusted.

And in short-order, the janitor union was busted.

*

All throughout Whoville, adult Whos who once worked to live

Found themselves fired and replaced by kids.

It wasn’t just school janitors who were forced out and fired.

All the most despicable job-creators found children to hire.

*

You see, the little Whos had loads of energy to work away their days

For very, very, very little pay.

It all happened quite fast, but still in stages.

Child workers in Whoville served to lower the wages.

*

There would be no Christmas, no presents, no feast,

No celebration, no stockings, no roast-beast.

No smiles, no laughter, no time for all of that.

No time for Christmas when the kids are working double shifts back to back.

*

When all was done, The Gingrinch returned to his perch at the top of Whoville.

He looked down on the Whos with a self-satisfied smile on his grill.

He didn’t need to steal their gifts, decorations or trees.

All the Gingrinch

had to do was rob the Whos of their dignity.

*

On Christmas day, the Gingrinch sat back very much proud of his self,

About to eat a large meal purchased with the Whos’s stolen wealth.

As he feasted, the Gingrinch was quite unaware of the Whos’s new Christmas plan:

Thousands of Whos marching toward his house with torches in hand.

*

Rion Amilcar Scott writes fiction all over the damn place, tweets @reeamilcarscott and blogs at datsun flambe.