Humorous Xmas Poems Novels & Stories

he said, spreading his hands over the air like he was displaying something magnificent. “Big?” I said flatly. “That’s all you got?” He shrugged. Then after a moment he said, “Maybe it’s too on the nose, but what about Frosty the Snowman?” I chuckled. “Oh, so now you’re wanting to follow the rules. I thought you were going to say rabbit or turtle dove.” “Twelve days of Christmas!” he yelled excitedly. “Only if we want to be disqualified for not having an actual snowman,” I said, looking him right in the eye.

‘Frosty the Snowman… was a jolly happy soul… with a corncob pipe and a button nose… and two eyes made out of coal…’ Clock Chimes. Singing Birds. Loud Giggles. Running Footfalls. And my perfectly clear vision of a busy morning full of snow and Christmas rubbish. How I reached about two hundred kilometers from the company building on foot might be a mystery to living folks, but the dead cannot deny how short a journey can become.

Tiny white pieces of plastic simulated falling snow and encircled the jolly soul as he wiggled in a swirling winter wonderland. “That’s pretty cool!” Reid replied, forcing as much fake enthusiasm into his voice as possible. While he attempted to enjoy the holidays for Michael’s sake and though he usually did a pretty good job of pretending, Christmas just wasn’t the same as it used to be. He would manage to get through the holidays, like he always did, but he was certainly one of those people who couldn’t wait to flip the calendar to January.

I look over at Yasmin like she’s lost her mind as I tape up another line of tinsel over the napkins and straws. “How could you hate Christmas, you cuckoo bird?” I ask. “It’s like, the cheeriest, happiest, friendliest—” “Annoyingest—” “Most annoying,” I correct her. “Like you.” She smirks, pointing a finger at me. “Annoyingest time of year.” I faux-gasp, placing a hand over my gaping mouth. “Sinful!” “Oh, shut up! Everyone is running around pretending to like each other, pretending to be cheery, pretending they don’t all want to kill each other over politics and religion every five seconds—”

He stared at Xavier on the floor, who Lisa was now helping up to his feet and his face heavily bruised up. This wasn’t one bit how he saw today ending, but that was the life he lived. He flexed his bruised up knuckle and pain shot through it. He marched over to where Jasmin was and took her hand in his, while everyone watched him like he was a time bomb about to explode. He said no word as he led Jasmin to the door and as he opened it, he turned to look at everyone, saying, “Merry Christmas to you all.” in the most sarcastic way.

They are men. Driving through town made me smile. Sure, the Christmas decorations have been the same for generations, but I think that’s what made me smile. This welcoming and warm feeling was in my heart as I looked at all the familiar decorations that filled my mountain home with holiday cheer. Packmates were busy with their days, working and shopping. I saw children looking into shop windows, eyeing toys they hoped to get for Christmas and all the holiday goodies in the bakery’s window. It feels like forever ago that I was one of those kids.

he mutters, rubbing his neck, “about that...” “Eh!” I shout, not wanting to turn his emotions into something sour, “I know all about your troubles, Santa.” I wiggle my nose, “I know the North Pole has been especially cold this year, and Santa's had to be very frugal this Christmas.” He nods, “I'm glad you understand.” I shake my head. “That doesn't mean Santa gets off scot-free.” He puffs out his chest, putting on his best deep Santa voice, “What can

Lory said softly, a smile spreading across her face. “You’re right, Lory,” I replied, my heart warming as I looked at our family together. The atmosphere was cozy, filled with laughter, whispers, and the soft hum of excitement. The clock struck twelve, and the kids erupted in joyful cheers. “Merry Christmas!” we all shouted together, our voices blending into a chorus of love and celebration. We gathered around the Christmas tree, beautifully adorned with ornaments we had collected over the years, each one holding a memory, a story of our family’s journey.

The chill drenched into my bones, and I shivered. Zack stood at the entrance, his smile sardonic. He clapped his hands, and the maids got the message. They grabbed the snow off the ground and made snowballs. Then they hurled the snowballs at us. The snowballs exploded the moment they came in contact with our skin. The chill seeped in worse than ever. This was humiliating. It almost felt like I was a toy. I struggled and thrashed around. "Stop! They're Wendy's parents!"

Hey, lovely readers, this is a Christmas special chapter, hope you enjoy. A Merry Christmas from me to you . “I love the Christmas-tide, and yet, I notice this, each year I live; I always like the gifts I get, but how I love the gifts I give!” ~Carolyn wells