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The Twelve Days of Christmas

On the ninth Daze of Christmas,

Kurt Newton gives us the Twelve Days of Christmas (Gutter style).

The Twelve Days of Christmas by Kurt Newton

On the first day of Christmas 
They sent me looking for a tree,
And I got lost in the woods behind our house.

On the second day of Christmas
It was fourteen degrees,
So I built myself a shelter
Out of logs in the woods behind our house.

On the third day of Christmas
Still no one came for me,
So I rubbed two sticks together,
And I made myself a fire
To keep warm in the woods behind our house.

On the fourth day of Christmas
I got very, very hungry,
So I trapped and killed a squirrel,
And cooked it on the fire,
And drank some snowy water
From the stream in the woods behind our house.

On the fifth day of Christmas
It was very plain to see:
I was
to die!
They would find me stiff and frozen,
My skin the color of the ocean,
All because they sent me looking
For some fucking tree in the woods behind our house.

On the sixth day of Christmas
It was hard to believe:
My heart was beating, my lungs still breathing,
I was
So I chased down a rabbit,
And ate it with my bare hands,
Had a dream about the full moon,
And woke up screaming in the woods behind our house.

On the seventh day of Christmas
Still no family.
I knew something wasn't quite right,
I couldn't be that hard to find.
  you fucking
All that talk about presents,
And Santa coming down the chimney,
Was just a way to get rid of me
And get me lost in the woods behind our house.

On the eighth day of Christmas
The snow was awful deep.
I caught two more squirrels,
One I kept alive and tortured,
Before it died, I named it Mother.
Wasn't I a good son?
I cleaned my room, I took the garbage out.
You just wait till I get home, Mom,
I'll find my way out of these woods back to our crappy house.

On the ninth day of Christmas
I peeled the bark from a tree,
And used a twig as a pencil,
And wrote a note to whoever,
Just in case they find my body,
I could tell them my story
Of how
 I was
I packed some chewy rabbit meatsticks
To bring with me on my journey,
Just like Robinson Crusoe (whoever that is),
Except in the snow, in the woods behind a house.

On the tenth day of Christmas
I woke up and headed east.
It could have been west for all I know,
In school, I didn't do real good,
Always sent down to the principal's office,
Getting suspended for doing bad stuff,
Like lighting fires in the storage rooms.
I was
            just having
Now, I'm trudging through the deep snow,
Trying to find my way back home,
Just like Hansel and Gretel (whoever they are),
Mother, I hope you're home when I leave these woods and find our house.

On the eleventh day of Christmas
I could no longer feel my feet.
I spent the night inside a deadfall
That kinda looked familiar,
I ran out of chewy rabbit meatsticks
And ate the note I scribbled on the tree bark,
Prayed that Mom would die a horrid death,
Fell asleep and almost gave up,
Until I
  heard a
    telephone ring!
It was like a Christmas tree bell,
Like a message from an angel
Who get his wings, just like that movie
I watch each year and cry when I'm alone inside our house.

On the twelfth day of Christmas
Mother was still asleep.
Her boyfriend, Jack, was passed out in the bathroom,
I made sure to take care of him first,
And then I went and woke up Mother,
She was so surprised to see me,
I said, "Merry Christmas, Mom, here's your present,"
"It's a Jack-in-a-Box, don't you get it?"
It was then she started screaming:
I told her God has nothing to do with it,
And Santa is the devil,
And then I swung the ax and buried it,
And stacked her pieces neatly on the woodpile behind my house.

You can find more Kurt Newton flash fiction at The Arcanist and in the pages of Hinnom Magazine. His first novel, The Wishnik, was recently released on Kindle.