A Christmas Poem From The Terminator Future

Twas Christmas Eve and in a bunker, John Connor was a-hiding.

For just one night he prayed he’d find reprieve from all the fighting.

He hunkered down, surveyed his room, and all that he could see

Was a photo of his mother with a gutted-out humvee.

A sock was hung upon his rifle with the greatest care

With the hope that killer robots wouldn’t bust into his lair.

His eyelids became heavy as his thoughts began to trail

When from above he heard a single gunshot, then a wail!

He sprang up to his feet as quickly as a man possessed.

He tossed the sock and slung his rifle snug across his chest.

Outside the night was quiet save for something in the distance.

He heard a muffled whimper and familiar whirring pistons.

Around a corner John did peer and all his eyes surveyed

Was a T-800 menacing a fat man in a sleigh!

John Connor raised his weapon and was just about to shoot

When Santa reached into his bag and pulled out some wrapped-up loot.

With reverence John Conner watched as Santa sealed his doom

And offered human presents for his killer to consume.

What happened next was something John had never thought he’d see.

The robot dropped its Uzi so its metal hands’d be free.

It reached out for the goodies being held by Old Saint Nick

And its pacemaker rebooted with a sentimental click.

Just when the Christmas spirit seemed to change this foe for good,

Santa dropped his boxes and quickly reached into his hood.

He drew a laser pistol then and quicker than a flash

He vaporized the evil cyborg, into so much ash.

John Conner stood agog and wondered why did Santa do it.

And Santa heard his thoughts and quickly answered “Nothing to it!

Christmas spirit touches every living breathing thing.

It’s the reason families gather and why little children sing.

When Skynet launched its missiles in an act of genocide,

It could not have known that Christmas was a thing that never died.

So I’d love to hand out presents to both sides of this big war

But humankind and robots only fight and fight some more.

So I’ve chosen sides; I’m sticking with the humans and their ilk

Because both sides enjoy presents, but people leave me cookies and milk.”

With that St. Nick sat down and grabbed the reins of his sedan

And whipped his reindeer up into the air with great elan.

John Conner grabbed the boxes which had fallen to the ground

And saw his name was on them, then he heard a warming sound:

“Merry Christmas everybody, and to everyone good night!”

And the tracer shot of Rudolph’s nose flew slowly out of sight.