Knecht Ruprecht, or The Bad Boy's Christmas

by Brett Rutherford

Don't even think of calling your
mother or father.
They cannot hear you.
No one can help you now.
I came through the chimney
in the form of a crow.

You are my first this Christmas.
You are a very special boy, you know.
You have been bad,
bad every day,
dreamt every night
of the next day's evil.

It takes a lot of knack
to give others misery
for three hundred and sixty
consecutive days!

How many boys have you beaten?
How many small animals killed?
Half the pets in this town
have scars from meeting you.

Am I Santa Claus? Cack, ack, ack!
Do I look like Santa, you little shit?
Look at my bare-bone skull,
my eyes like black jelly,
my tattered shroud.

My name is Ruprecht,
Knecht Ruprecht.
I'm Santa's cousin! Cack, ack, ack!

Do stop squirming and listen--
(of course I am hurting you!)
I have a lot of visits to make.
My coffin is moored to your chimney.
My vultures are freezing their beaks off.

But as I said, you are special.
You are my Number One boy.
When you grow up,
you are going to be a noxious skinhead,
maybe a famous assassin.
Your teachers are already afraid of you.

In a year or two you will discover girls,
a whole new dimension of cruelty and pleasure.

Now let us get down to business.
Let me get my bag here.

Presents? Presents! Cack, ack, ack!
See these things? They are old,
old as the Inquisition,
make dental instruments look like toys.

No, nothing much, no permanent harm.
I shall take a few of your teeth,
and then I shall put them back.

This is going to hurt. There--
the clamp is in place.
Let's see--where to plug in
those electrodes?

Oh, now, don't whimper and pray to God!
As if you ever believed! Cack, ack, ack!
I know every tender place in a boy's body.
There, that's fine! My, look at the blood!
      Look at the blood!

You'll be good from now on? That's a laugh.
Am I doing this to teach you a lesson?
I am the Punisher. I do this
because I enjoy it! I am ... just ... like ... you!

There is nothing you can do!
I can make a minute of pain seem like a year!
And no one will ever believe you!

Worse yet, you cannot change.
Tomorrow you shall be more hateful than ever.
The world will wish you had never been born.

Well now, our time is up. Sorry for the mess.
You may tell your mother
     you had a nosebleed.

Your father is giving you a hunting knife
for which I am sure you will have a thousand uses.

Just let me lick those tears from your cheeks.
I love the taste of children's tears.

My, it is late! Time to fly! Cack, ack, ack!
I shall be back next Christmas Eve!

rev. 2022

Nelly, A Holiday Doggerel

by Brett Rutherford

NELLY spent years pursuing a cure

     for her raging NYMPHOMANIA,

Then on her thirteenth Balkan tour

she took to bed, and promptly wed

a shepherd from Albania.

When she brought him home for Christmas week

they made love all night on the attic floor.

Of the acts they performed we can barely speak —

in the widow’s walk! on the sundial clock!

on the underside of the cellar door!

They were seen on a rock overhanging the lake

doing things to each other that cannot be named.

When he crept to her sister’s bed by mistake,

the pastor protested — they were nearly arrested —

yet the couple just laughed and refused to be shamed.

Contentment for Nelly was foredoomed to be brief.

for the Serb grew sullen and retired into gloom.

When a necklace vanished and they searched for a thief ,

they found half of her heirlooms concealed in his room

On New Year’s Day the villainous wretch

ran off with the lamb from the village crèche.

*** ***

This was written some years ago in New York. It may have been intended to be added to my little set of Christmas doggerel that accompanied Knecht Ruprecht.

Knecht Ruprecht, or The Bad Boy's Christmas

Don't even think of calling your
mother or father.
They can't hear you.
No one can help you now.
I came through the chimney
 in the form of a crow.

You're my first this Christmas.
You're a very special boy, you know.
You've been bad,
bad every day,
dreamt every night
 of the next day's evil.
It takes a lot of knack
 to give others misery
for three hundred and sixty
consecutive days!
How many boys have you beaten?
How many small animals killed?
Half the pets in this town
 have scars from meeting you.
Am I Santa Claus? Cack, ack, ack!
Do I look like Santa, you little shit?
Look at my bare-bone skull,
   my eyes like black jelly,
   my tattered shroud.
My name is Ruprecht,
 Knecht Ruprecht.
I'm Santa's cousin! Cack, ack, ack!

Stop squirming and listen--
 (of course I'm hurting you!)
I have a lot of visits to make.
My coffin is moored to your chimney.
My vultures are freezing their beaks off.

But as I said, you're special.
You're my number one boy.
When you grow up,
you're going to be a noxious skinhead,
maybe a famous assassin.
Your teachers are already afraid of you.
In a year or two you'll discover girls,
a whole new dimension  of cruelty and pleasure.

Now let's get down to business.
Let me get my bag here.
Presents? Presents! Cack, ack, ack!
See these things? They're old,
old as the Inquisition,
make dental instruments look like toys.

No, nothing much, no permanent harm.
I'll take a few of your teeth,
then I'll put them back.
This is going to hurt.  There--
the clamp is in place.
Let's see--where to plug in
those electrodes?

Oh, now, don't whimper and pray to God!
As if you ever believed in God! Cack, ack, ack!
I know every tender place in a boy's body.
There, that's fine! My, look at the blood!

You'll be good from now on? That's a laugh.
Am I doing this to teach you a lesson?
I am the Punisher. I do this
because I enjoy it! I am just like you!

There is nothing you can do!
I can make a minute of pain seem like a year!
No one will ever believe you!

Worse yet, you cannot change.
Tomorrow you will be more hateful than ever.
The world will wish you had never been born.

Well now, our time is up. Sorry for the mess.
Tell your mother you had a nosebleed.

Your father is giving you a hunting knife
for which I'm sure you'll have a thousand uses.

Just let me lick those tears from your cheeks.
I love the taste of children's tears.

My, it's late! Time to fly! Cack, ack, ack!
 I'll be back next Christmas Eve!


_______
Knecht Ruprecht, from German folklore, is St. Nicholas' evil twin, who punishes bad children.