The Christmas Prince

Once, time was upon Little Micah.
He was too young to tell time, it's true,
But old timey-time was always telling him what to do.


TIME to get up, Mi...c...ah!
Pavarelli (Molly the Bird), his father's two-faced, two-toned parrot,
would loudly squawk.
"La, la-la, la-la, la-la," Father (Le Divo) sang right after him in his rich
mezzo-soprano voice.
You see, he really preferred not to talk.


Little Micah, his operatic father, and the double-dealing bird
lived in a saggy, wobbly, bubbly brick little shack surrounded by a wild wood at the end of a narrow rocky road.
It was totally misplaced in a fancy neighborhood.


There was a grand white house with black shutters high up on hill.
The shack sat sadly in the valley below.
It looked like something the big house spit out because it was hill,
It was pretty dreary inside.
The white lace curtains were dusty and dingy;
nothing in there was new.
The walls were warped and wavy,
so all the pictures were slightly askew.


An old bumpy, lumpy, grimy, and grim red carpet
full of fleas covered the creaky, squeaky floor.
A shabby, fidgety, three-legged blue corduroy couch
that rocked faced the lockless door.


In the middle of the rundown dwelling
was an unsteady flight of wooden stairs with rickety rails.
Little Micah had to watch where he stepped,
and had to beware of pesky little nails,
popping up out of nowhere, snapping his socks,
pricking his pinkie toe, then snickering when they were done.
Pesky snickering nails in the stairs with rickety rails really was no fun.


One brilliant spot inside the dank shaky shack was an old golden brown
upright piano, elegant, solid, and bright.
Whose black and white keys held all the hopes and possibilities
of music, joy, and light.
Sitting on the bench, humming a marvelous melody written in his mind,
was the one place in the world Little Micah felt he belonged and was all right.



Mi...c...ah! TIME to comb the hair!
Pavarelli, aka Molly the Bird, screeched, perched atop Father Le Divo's head,
displaying her vibrant hues of yellow, blue, and green like a bright balloon.
"La, la-la, la-la, la-la," he sang in response in his most dramatic tune.



He'd run and fetch his big silver comb,
which he liked very much.
The bristles were the color of sweet cream and soft to the touch.
Father Le Divo's hair was long and thick.
Precariously Little Micah stood on the back of the three-legged couch
to help reach his scalp, because Le Divo insisted his luxurious tresses
were flawlessly placed, smooth and slick.



On the other hand, Little Micah's hair was a wild thick garden
of straight, spiky, fringe, wavy, and messy
going every which-a-way.
Never, ever was it tended to, nary a detangling moment,
and, of course, he never had a special hair-washing day.


Little Micah slept in a tiny attic room
with a crooked roof too small to stand up in.
he had so few things to call his own:
his special notebook of songs and Cuddles the teddy bear,
but he never complained about his cramped circumstances.
Besides he was pretty thin.



Little Micah never wore a coordinating outfit.
He only had three random shirts, one checkered skirt,
some mix-matched striped socks... Yup, that's about it!
Except for some hand-me-down old ankle boots with a hole at the left toe
and his one treasure—a red coat that had once belonged to his beloved Grandpapi.
It had tatted patches and unraveling threads,
but was oh-so cheerful against the glistening white snow.



TIME to clean the birdcage, Mi...c...ah!
squeaked Pavarelli, aka Molly the Bird, from her gray shadowy side.
This was his most dreaded stinky sticky chore.
A clothespin on his nose, he quickly scooped out the smelly mush
Yuck! It made him totally want to scream and hide.



Little Micah didn't much like the lonely work he did in the shack.
No one gave him a hand or talked to him,
just his father's hypocritical bird, who only squawked back.


But there was one time unlike any other,
When everyone pitched in and helped one another...

CHRISTMAS TIME!

Micah, his father, and the bird would sweep, dust, and shake out the bugs.
They straightened out the pictures and scrubbed the filthy red rug!
They spruced up the windows and rickety rails with holly and fresh pine,
And polished the piano so good, it made the whole room shine.

Little Micah hummed "Deck the Halls"
as he strung popcorn and cranberries
and taped paper snowflakes on the wobbly walls.
"Fa la la la la la," Father Le Divo joyfully chimed in,
and at Christmas Time, singing instead of talking wasn't weird at all.

As a matter of fact, Father Le Divo got quite festive,
putting hot cocoa in holiday mugs with marshmallows on top
and placing an enchanting Adven calendar on the piano, where chocolate treats
were hidden behind flippity flaps that flop.


Father Le Divo often left to sing for their supper,
leaving Little Micah in the shack with no lock, alone and insecure.
One of the reasons Little Micah loved Christmas Time so much
was because his father was home a little more.
But one Christmas night, his father went to the store to buy some candy canes,
and that's when double trouble hit the door.


In the grand white house high up on the hill lived a fancy family from Spain.
They spoke with odd English accents, which was weird,
but appeared pretty perfect at first glance.

The father, mother, sister, and brother all had piercing brown eyes,
plus a bunch of cats.
The parents were aloof, collectively the cats were smelly,
and the kids were brats!


The girl thought she was a rock star, though she couldn't play guitar or sing.
But she kinda looked like one. Her hair was glossy ombré,
precisely cut like feathers on a partridge wing.

She wore a denim jacket with buttons and skulls
with a hip band T-shirt underneath,
and in the back pocket of crisp purple jeans, she kept a menacing hairbrush
with very fine and sharp teeth.



The boy dressed in the cutest, newest clothes with dark brown freckles
that speckled his clean milky face.
He had frizzy bangs and incredibly long curry jet black hair that he swished,
swooshed, and flippantly flipped all over the place.



The girl and the boy were bigger, cooler, and richer than Little Micah
and secretly teased him about his shabby shack, hapless hair, and tacky tatters.
Most of the time, they wouldn't break him down
because he had his own special music and to him that's all that matters.



But this wintry Christmas night when Father Le Divo was out,
the girl and boy burst into the shack and started to laugh and shout.
"Look at your silly cheap paper and popcorn decorations, and what's that ugly
calendar on your dumb piano all about?"


The girl whipped out her scary hairbrush and glided it through her hair,
and when she got pulled out of her hair, the teeth became fangs and whispered,
"Go kick over that pitiful Christmas tree over there!"



The girl did as the hairbrush ordered, giggling with such delight.
Then the boy flipped his long heavy hair and it whipped around the room like a tornado, destroying everything in sight while Little Micah shook with fright!


He scampered and took cover under the tiny kitchen table
and sang in a whisper-whistle to himself in order to feel stable.
The girl pointed her pointy comb at him and yelled,
"Little Micah's song sucks; he's a little loser. Ha! That's his new label!"


"Little Loser! Little Loser!" chimed the brother and sister.
Little Micah kept singing higher and higher,
hugging his knees with one hand and closing his ear with other.

He peeped his head out,
and through the yelling and mayhem looked toward the window
and saw the lace curtains dancing.
But wait, what's really happening—could it be so?
Snowflakes were twinkling, flittering, and prancing!



"IT'S SNOWING!"
he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling bright.
"And I didn't even wish for snow on this Christmas night!"



Little Micah scurried and grabbed his coat off the crooked hook,
flung open the door, squealed, and swirled out into the night
while nobody looked.



He ran and ran, letting the frosty fresh air kiss his cheeks
rosy to match his red coat
and the snowflakes catch in his snow-white hair
where they would glitter, glisten, and float.

He rushed through trees in the backyards of the big houses,
leaving all the chaos behind in the little shack,
and didn't stop until he was deep into the mysterious wild woods
before he even looked back.



He came upon a pristine clearing,
lay down on the sparkling, white soft blanket, his heart cheering,
and waved his arms and legs to make an angel of snow.
Underneath the stars, Little Micah looked up into the dark sky.
The more he moved his little limbs, the more the stars started to grow and glow!



As the snow fell on his face and lashes, he blinked his eyes.
The next thing he saw, the stars turned into snowflakes
that looked like fairies that looked like butterflies!

Little Micah broke out into a high-pitched song at the very sight.
The Snowflake Butterfly Fairies were luminous! Glorious!
And none of them looked or danced alike.



They pirouetted, cabbage patched, and boogalooed to his exquisite tune.
The trees, moss, mushrooms, all the woods began to bust a move—
even the dazzling full moon!

As the Snowflake Butterfly Fairies danced around,
fantastical ornaments flew from their wings
onto the trees made from snow scooped up from the ground.


From their sweet fairy breath,
they blew out silver garlands, glassy icicles, and magical crystals
decorating the gnarly limbs and pointy needles.
So enchanted by their beauty, Little Micah followed the fairies.
As they flickered and flew, he twirled and tweedled.

The fairies flew faster, deeper into the woods and out of Little Micah's sight.
He was lost and scared, surrounded by a daunting forest
and the dark darkness of night.


He aimlessly roamed between the big old trees.
Far off in the distance, he heard a deep murmur of cantankerous voices.
Little Micah didn't know where he was,
so what were his choices?


The scary sounds grew closer and louder,
so frightened Little Micah ran blindly as fast as he could,
until he stumbled and stubbed his toe
on what he thought was a piece of wood.


As he bent down to tuck his stocking back in the hole in his boot,
he touched a radiant, beaming heart-shaped stone.
It completely enchanted him,
so he hurriedly put it in his coat pocket and sang like a flute.


Before he knew it, he was encircled by a gang of bullies
in drab green uniforms and camouflaged in ice.
It was the notorious Shamey Shame Girls.
"BLAH! BLAH! BLAH!" they vehemently chanted at Little Micah.
These girls were not at all nice.

They threw fireballs at the beautiful, wise old trees just to watch them burn.
The Shamey Shame Girls didn't like anyone who wasn't just like them.
Worst of all, they didn't like to read or learn.

Little Micah was so terrified he took the stone out of his pocket,
sang, and held it tight against his chest like a locket.


A brilliant beam of light shot out of the rock and through his heart.
He followed the glow and all his fear disappeared. That was the best part.

The light stopped at a moist, mossy tree stump,
with a big, really old book sitting on top of it.


The cover was bedazzled, bejeweled, and in the middle a heart-shaped hole.
Still clutching the stone, Little Micah put it in, and behold...


...a perfect fit!


The Shamey Shame Girls caught up with Little Micah
And as they began to blurt out a nasty "BLAH!"
they saw the magical book, and all they could say was Ahhhhh.
The vibrant light coming from his heart started to melt their hard ice.
What was revealed was that they were really just a group of fearful little girls,
and some of them were even made of sugar and spice.



Then the book opened, the pages flipped and flurried,
and out came diamond-dusted dust,
and the magnificent Butterfly Fairy King emerged from the sparkly gust!

He summoned the fairies and guided them
to gather all the gems and crystals on the ground
and spin them into a big ring to put on Little Micah's head like a crown!

"For your perfectly pure songs from the heart,
I hereby declare you the Christmas Prince!"
The handsome Butterfly Fairy King sang.
"Yasssss! Little Micah is the Christmas Prince!"
shouted the girls gleefully, who were now a pretty colorful gang.


The Butterfly Fairy King led them all through the woods, with the fairies in tow,
back to the shack, which was now perfectly straight
and decorated with candles, every window aglow.

Father Le Divo and Pavarelli were on the porch,
each wearing a fancy red velvet Santa hat,
but what really made their ensembles festive
were their merry smiles, and nothing says Christmas more than that!


The golden piano came rolling outside.
The King beckoned Little Micah to sit and play.
All of a sudden, the cats came down the hill on a perfumed sleigh.
He happily plucked Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding.
Then folks from the big houses came around to the shack to sing.
And everybody harmoniously got along
as they sang Little Micah's joyous Christmas!




Merry Christmas to You...






—The End—