The Three Ghosts of Pal’mas
Written by Marybell
DISCLAIMER: All characters and situations appearing in this work are fictitious, and are intended for mature audiences only. If you are not a legal adult, or it is illegal for you to read about adult situations, then you may not read futher. All characters belong to their respective owners. This story is not to be reproduced, copied, or otherwise published anywhere, in any way shape or form, without the express permission of the author.
T’was the night before PALmas, when all through the site
Not a lurker was posting, though the BOTS they still might.
The commissions were all posted by our lovely Admins,
With naughty pics sending members back to their tissues again.
The children of Jade’s comic were snug in their beds,
Their butts a bright and cheery colour of red.
The cute demon girls from the Carnal Kingdom,
Had just passed out from the size 12 dildos stuck in ‘em.
Avatar, Tails…and the Kids Next Door,
All posted with warning, ‘til next year…no moar.’
Yet even as Pietro switched his PC to off,
He heard come from behind him a very great cough.
He turned not around but spoke out so bold.
“Stop stealing my tacos Cheetah, it’s getting old.”
But when he did turn, what would he encounter,
But a samurai pizza cat and his Valkyrie bouncer.
“Fear not…” said the Neko, though he held an old rifle.
“I come only to warn you of tonight’s coming trifles.”
And spoke so he did, then vanished without warnin’
Stating only Pietro’d meet three ghosts by mornin’.
Then from his team’s drawing room, arose such clatter,
That Pietro ran back to see what was the matter.
The sight he saw gave his heart quite a murmur
Three spectral figures, though they seemed quite familiar.
And like the shepherd who ‘pon watching his flock,
Should spy a large wolf, he cried “What the frock?”
They spoke not a word, but led him away.
To his small desk wherest he toiled each day.
“Is this some torture?” the man loudly proclaimed.
“Even *I* need rest…” was the bitter complaint.
Yet no pen nor tablet, before him was seen,
Simply an empty white page, like an old Christmas scene.
Then without a word, a charcoal picture was scribbled
Of an old toymaker, working hard at his table.
As every toy finished, it flew out the door,
And so was time for the toymaker to make more.
But every toy finished, it flew out of sight.
Without a second chance to see ‘was it alright?’.
The toy maker peeked out the window, gave a great sigh.
Asking what wouldst people remember him by?
“Each toy’s come and gone…and then soon forgotten.”
He spake to the air, his soul feeling sotten.
“My toys are loved….for maybe one or two days…
But soon become old, and then thrown away.
And so my hours of work – they amount to so little,
My mountain of sweat, reduced to a pebble.
Does anyone know? Does anyone care?”
Pietro nodded, and wiped back a tear.
Yet the page tore away – leaving new faces
Showing the oft-mentioned toys in all the places.
With memory balloons from e’ry woman and man
Remembering their own toys from that caravan.
“Even years later, when the toys had all gone to rot.
That man’s gifts were ne’er forgot.”
Pietro turned around as the three figures spoke,
And wondered for a moment, was this all a joke.
The first ghost with glasses and a furry dispose
Said with a wink and a tweak of his nose,
“Never be sad, our friend, never be blue
There are many – like us – remembering you .”
All red hair and silly, the second spectre chimed in
“Pietro-chama’s only so busy cuz so many woves him!
Though they ‘meh’ all the time, whine, bulk and jeer,
If your works t’were not loved, they wouldst not be here!”
“They speak true….” added the third little ghosty
“Pietro should know, we all love him the mosty.”
Her strange wittle eyes, twinkled and glittered
And Pietro stepped back as naughty eye lashes flittered.
“So take off tonight… unplug ALL your machines..
And go to your loved ones, you know who I mean.
How many more Christmas’s we have, no person knows.
So cherish each one, before each one goes. “
And with that three chibi’s jumped on our friend
And hugged and glomped him..without any end.
“Same to you…” He spoke and struggled for breath.
“Let’s enjoy together each year we have left.”
And as the specters backed away to his door.
The three of them grinned “Oh..one last thing more.”
Pietro hmm’ed and perked up both furry ears.
“We need moar wezzie womance next year!”
“No! Shota!” “No! Rezu!” “Moar Etna please”
The three specters argued ‘til they all were dizzy.
But Pietro merely grinned, ‘ere he turned out his lights,
“Merry PAL’mas to all, and to all a good-night!”