1997
We started out with a science fiction story right off the top.
Lost in Space was something we loved as kids, and seemed fitting with the
movie due out that we honor it here. (I believe that the series
showed the Jupiter 2's launch as 1997, so that was extra fitting.) The idea used all the sight
gags down to the 'continued next week' that trade-marked each
episode. This was one that I felt we could have done better on, but
it was all right. Unfortunately, we couldn't come up with another
idea, and it went to everyone.
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T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the ship.
Not a creature was stirring, not even the Blip (sorry, Bloop).
The children were nestled all snug in their cots,
While dreaming about their beloved robot.
And I in my spacesuit, had just gone out the lock,
I’d planned for a short, yet very peaceful space walk.
I then had the feeling, something was the matter,
If space wasn’t airless, I’d have heard the clatter.
I moved to the hatch as I saw the bright flash,
I had to move quickly, so we wouldn’t crash.
The lights on the instrument panel, they glowed,
And cast such strange shadows on the switches below.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and vac-suited reindeer.
With a little old pilot, so lively and quick,
I knew in an instant, it must be Space Nick.
More rapid than sunspots, his coursers they came,
And he signaled by radio and called them by name,
On Corwin, On Allen, on Roddenberry, on Wood,
On producers of fiction, both bad, and both good.
To the side of the ship, they turned in freefall,
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all.
As quickly as asteroids that move to collide,
They zipped to the ship and then hovered by the side.
To the top of the dome, the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full toys and Space Nicholas too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the hull,
The prancing of hooves had just broken the lull.
I took off my helmet and was turning around,
Danger, danger Will Robinson was the next sound.
The next thing I did was go below on the lift,
To find the robot fending off a small gift.
He had gifts for the Major, and for Maureen,
There were so many things it was hard to believe.
His eyes how they twinkled, through the helmet faceplate,
His cheeks were like roses, his eyes gray, like slate.
To find a spacesuit that size would take quite a trick,
Right down to the name tag that proclaimed him S. Nick.
Tucked in his belt was an old pipe that was rare,
I’m glad he didn’t light it and foul up the air.
He made all his rounds and left gifts to be seen,
Things that were special for me, Don, Maureen.
The gifts for the children, his intentions were plain,
A lump of coal for Smith, Oh the pain, oh the pain.
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
I heard not a word as his helmet was sealed,
He’d filled all the stockings when his radio squealed.
Pressing a button that was red in hue,
And giving a nod, out the disposal he flew.
He moved to his sleigh and transmitted a whistle,
And away they all flew like a nuclear missile.
But I heard him transmit as they reached event peak,
Happy Christmas to all, to be continued next week. |
Copyright
Ó
1997 by
Brian
and Shirley Dean
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