Solstice on Rigel VIII

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Solstice on Rigel VIII

Okay, I know the cadences are all messed up, and the rhymes stink, too. What can I say? I know I'm a crappy poet.

This comes via my local writing group which has an annual activity for our holiday party: write a something in one of our genres--SciFi, fantasy, horror--on a common topic. This year our topic is "Solstice celebrations, past, present, or future." So why not a solstice event on RIgel VIII where Kang and Kodos of the Simpsons live? Except that I'm crap at poetry, even with a model to follow.

My actual story is "Invalid Item" , which is better but still not great. I've got a week to come up with something. Suggestions welcomed.

Solstice on Rigel VIII
Otherwise known as Octopas.

Twas the night before Octopas, when all through the tank
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Bart;
The tentacle sheaths were hung by the wormhole with care
In the hopes that St. Kodos the Slayer soon would be there;
The larvae were nestled all snug in their pupae;
While visions of Simpsons danced in their poopie;
And Kang in her inhaler and I in my tank,
Had just settled our brains for a long Solstice nap,
When out on the beach there came such a clatter,
I sprang from my pod to see what was the matter.
Away to the port I slimed like a snake,
Swiped at the fog with all eight arms awash.
Rigel VIII’s cold light fell on the ammonia all frosty
Gave luster of midday to the objects below.
But a miniature saucer and eight tiny squidlets
With an old Rigellian so slobbery and greasy.
I knew in a moment he must be St. Kodos the Meany.
More rapid than vipers his coursers they came,
And he drooled and slobbered and called them by name.
Now Killer! Now Dagger! Now Pincher and Vices!
On Comet! On Cruelty! On Donner Party and Blitzed!
To the top of the tank, to the top of the sludge!
Now slime away! Slime away! Slime away all!
As fronds before the wild hurricane strew,
When they meet with an obstacle, flop to the ooze;
So up to the tanktop the coursers they slimed
With the saucer full of lasers, and St. Kodos, besides—
And then, in a snarling, I heard on the shoals,
The slither and sliming of many tentacle toes,
As I drew in my head and was squirming about,
Down the sluice came St. Kodos, slobbering from his snout.
He was dressed all in plexi-glass, from his head to all toes,
And he looked like an octopus, eight legs all in rows.
His dozens of eyes—all a-twinkle! His dimples, all faecal!
His cheeks were like sponges, his airhole like a lamprey’s!
His droll mouth drooled saliva with infinite sleaze;
And the cilila on his torso was green as sea moss;
The stump of a breathing tube his lips did emboss.
And ammonia leaked about his head like the Rings of Rigel VII.
His broad features and brow bulging to heaven;
That jiggled when he laughed, like a bowl pig’s ileum.
He was flatulent and squirmy, a right evil old Rigellian,
And I howled when I saw him, making of myself a spectacle;
A wink of a dozen or so eyes and a twist of a tentacle
Soon gave me to know I had much to dread;
He slobbered not a word but went straight ahead;
And filled all the tentacle sheaths with human entrails;
Then turned with a jiggle and laying a tentacle asiede his dentils,
He slithered to his saucer, to his team gave a yowell,
And away they all flew, like the craft at old Roswell,
But I heard him slobber, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Solstice to all, and to all an evil night!”

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