‘Twas the Night Before the Election, 2024: A Parody

‘Twas the Night Before the Election, 2024: A Parody

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‘Twas the Night Before the Election, 2024: A Parody

The year is 2024. The air crackles with a tension thicker than Aunt Mildred’s fruitcake. The presidential election looms, a behemoth casting a long shadow over every holiday gathering, every family dinner, every late-night scroll through social media. Forget sugar plums – this year, it’s polling numbers dancing in our heads.

‘Twas the night before the election, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung, not by the chimney with care,
But strategically placed, to subtly declare
For whom their allegiance, a silent campaign,
A sock-puppet army, fueled by partisan rain.

The children were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of recounts danced in their heads.
And Mama in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our nerves with a long, weary nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the blinds, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature tank, and eight tiny reindeer!

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick…
Or at least, someone pretending to be St. Nick,
A political strategist, quick with a trick.
His eyes – how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a cigar, he held tight in his teeth,
A subtle suggestion, beneath all the wreath.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A bundle of flyers he had flung to the ground,
And gave not a whistle, nor uttered a sound,
But went straight to his work, and with a jerk of his head,
He filled all the stockings; then turned round and said:

“Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
His team, a motley crew, answered his call.
A campaign manager, stressed and quite pale,
A social media guru, whose strategies fail,
A pollster with charts, muttering darkly and low,
A fact-checker, exhausted, a weary old crow.

They leaped to the tank, and away they all flew,
With a "Ho, ho, hold the line!" and a "We’re gonna see it through!"
They soared through the night, with a trail of bright sparks,
Leaving behind them, political marks.
I watched them all go, through the cold winter air,
And whispered a prayer, for a future less rare,

A future where debates were respectful and kind,
Where facts were respected, and truth we could find.
Where the rhetoric stopped, and the shouting ceased,
And the promise of change, was a welcome released.
But alas, as I watched, a dark thought crept in,
Would the election results ever truly begin
To reflect the true wishes, the hopes, and the dreams,
Or would it just be a nightmare, it often seems?

For the night before the election, had left me quite stirred,
With a mix of excitement, and feelings absurd.
The future uncertain, the outcome unknown,
The seeds of division, so deeply had grown.
But still, in my heart, a small ember did glow,
A hope for a nation, where unity could grow.

The tank disappeared swiftly, a blur in the night,
Leaving behind only shadows, and fading moonlight.
I returned to my bed, with a sigh and a yawn,
And dreamt of a nation, where no one was sworn
To a political party, or a specific belief,
But a nation united, escaping all grief.

Yet, as dawn broke, a chilling thought arose,
The election was nearing, and everyone knows,
That regardless of party, or candidate’s name,
The outcome would shape, the future’s whole game.
So let us all hope, as the day starts anew,
For a peaceful transition, honest and true.

And maybe, just maybe, next Christmas we’ll see,
A nation united, for all to agree,
That regardless of politics, love will prevail,
And the spirit of Christmas, will never fail. But until then, the battle continues, the fight is far from over, and the year 2024 holds its breath, waiting to see what the future will uncover. The fate of the nation hangs in the balance, a precarious tightrope walk between hope and despair. The only certainty? It’s going to be a wild ride.

The media frenzy, a cacophony loud,
Each news channel screaming, amidst the proud
Declarations of victory, the claims and the boasts,
While fact-checking websites, are constantly ghost-
ing the lies and the fabrications, the spin and the sway,
Leaving the electorate confused, at the close of the day.

The debates were a spectacle, a clash of the titans,
Each candidate vying, for the hearts of the cit-
izens, with promises whispered, and slogans so bold,
While the undecided voters, remained to be sold.
The social media battles, raged fiercely and fast,
With memes and with hashtags, that forever would last.

The rallies and marches, a vibrant display,
Of passionate supporters, all eager to sway
The undecided voters, with chants and with signs,
A testament to the power, of the collective designs.
The volunteers tireless, worked day and through night,
To ensure that their candidate, would emerge into light.

And so, as the clock ticked, towards election day’s dawn,
The nation held its breath, until the results were drawn.
Would it be a landslide, a victory so clear?
Or a nail-biting finish, fueled by fear and by cheer?
Only time would tell, as the ballots were cast,
The future of the nation, forever to last.

‘Twas the night before the election, a night filled with dread,
A nation divided, yet hope still ahead. But as the sun rises on Election Day, one thing remains certain: the future of the nation rests in the hands of its citizens, and the choices they make.

Closure

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