Part 1

NIGHTMARE ON 34TH STREET: A XMAS GROTESQUE 

Words + Music by Geordie McElroy 

***

Part 1

What is the color of Christmas?

The white of untouched snow?

The green of a Douglas Fir

Or ceaseless mistletoe? 

Could it be the red of stockings? 

Or yule-log’s golden breath?

No. The color of Christmas is black 

Black of a moonless winter's night

The black of coal in the abyss

The black of death

***

Koopman’s Department Store presents:

The 12 Days of Christmas 

Grand Parade to city conveyed 

This season big business

Announcer from Channel Thirteen 

Mic picked up howling wind 

Nor’easter of the century 

From Greenland rolling in 

Each float branded to perfection

Each with a sponsored theme 

Franzenstein gingerbread houses 

Toscani nativity scenes 

They rolled along 34th street

Up to Koopman’s revolving door 

Where Steve and his wife Portia throned 

King and Queen of the store 

A masterpiece of art nouveau 

Engulfing block, tower 

Dazzling retail cathedral 

Where hard won coin showered 

The windows full of season’s displays

Gorgeous crystalline glass

Each winter fantasies 

Available for cash 

Announcer spoke up: “Here she comes

It’s Mercedes Koopman

Steve and Portia’s only daughter 

With her vocal debut” 

The pre-teen rode high on a float

Promoting her own brand 

Hawking neon fast fashion 

And song without a band 

Just as Mercedes started up

Before her vocals dropped

Announcer said: “Wait… here comes Santa Claus?

And he’s coming in hot” 

Santa revved red convertible 

Madness flashed in his eyes

He aimed full speed for Koopman’s store 

Mercedes forced to dive

The crash destroyed the singer’s float 

As Santa stripped his clothes

Revealing a Satan suit beneath 

To the crowd he exposed 

Something from out of his waistband 

From crotch depth fustiness

He waved it around and yodeled:

“The hammer of justice!”

With hardware Santa Claus screaming:

“You bourgeois pigs must die

This one goes out to you, my Pearl” 

Blue-haired girl averted eyes

He raised the groin-secreted tool 

Shattered Koopman’s displays 

Screamed about theory of labor 

And radical cliches

Christian protestors turned their backs 

So-called allies turned tail 

Couldn’t even rally the winos  

Alone, his riot failed 

Just then, behind them, explosion 

Mercedes float caught fire 

Her fast fashion went up in flames 

Sizzling cheap attire 

And yet, her vocals still running 

Spinning like an axle rod

Santa screaming: “Revolution!” 

Wrangled by cattle prod

The nor’easter winds blew wicked

Toppling cameras smashed 

As cops hauled off Santa Claus

Video cut to black

***

In dungeon cell at lighthouse foot

The darkest part of town

Orphan Noel’s dead-hour vigil

As beam spun round and round 

Thirteen years through bars and barbed wire

St. Nick's School's stagnant view 

The dump, trash barges, and canneries

But tonight… Something new? 

Out in black harbor, an unmanned ship 

Lurched on storm from the north 

It rammed into rotting pilings

Impaled itself on wharf 

Figure in seal furs rowed life raft

Into a shadowed drain 

Where the refuse of the city spewed 

The gaping sewer main

***

Noel sang her hopes of Christmas 

Gnawing wait made her sick 

She longed to be at the North Pole

Re-connect with St. Nick

The 25th was her birthday 

Only 12 days away 

When she would graduate from here

Head home on reindeer sleigh 

As long as she could remember

Noel pursued one goal:

To be the best in the stable 

To work and do as told 

Her dream, making St. Nick shine 

To bask in his glow cast on her

She was willing to die for him

Her lord and her master 

Dozing orphans surrounded Noel 

Chained to cots in the dark

Noel kept warm in the bitter stone cell 

Hope providing the spark 

Youngest Chloe’s teeth chattering 

"The Pole is much colder"

Noel said, giving up blanket

"You'll see when you're older" 

“St. Nick needs help on the line

Toil bitter, burlap thin 

He has no time to tend to you

Your fire must burn within”

Their conversation echoed out

Waking up Harriet 

For Chancellor Remmy she screamed 

With hate and despair in it 

Remmy entered, pince-nez and coif 

Paisley smoking jacket 

Even at this witching hour

Simply immaculate 

“Now, now, girls you need your rest

So please, let’s squash it 

We need you all to look your best 

St. Nick’s always watching” 

Remmy gestured to the cell wall 

Icon of a Cossack 

“St. Nick knows if you’re sleeping sound 

If you comply or talk back” 

The painting showed a savage man

Dropping stash, fangs of gold 

Shaved head with topknot hanging down 

And jade eyes, tundra cold 

With hushed purring of a camera 

The Cossack’s gaze feeding

Remmy said as he was leaving 

Above orphans breathing 

“Try as you might, he may flunk you

Dolores never slacked 

But Nick found her in the lantern room 

Now she’s buried out back” 

***

Lt. Dunn arrived at the wharf

Screamed at harbor patrol 

Snuffed his smoke into their coffee

And ganked their donut holes

“Tow this vessel across state lines

Out of our jurisdiction” 

“I know the plan, I've done it before 

It's stuck in this position” 

“A rotten way to start the day”

Dunn slugged rum for warming

“Colder than a boo hag’s coochie

What’s what? Inform me”

“She's an ex-Soviet vessel 

Rusted and putrid green 

Cyrillic writing down her flank 

‘North Star’ it seems it means” 

“The crew is nowhere to be found

Captain’s chained to the wheel

He’s burned beyond recognition

As to how, it’s not clear”

“There’s no hint of gasoline

Or any accelerant”

“Terrorism? Bio-attack?” 

Something malevolent?”

They led Dunn to the cargo hold

And stared into darkness

Bone upon bone way down below

Countless beast carcasses

Flashlight flickered, pyramids stacked

As Dunn asked, “Is that horse?” 

“Caribou. The other red meat” 

Corpse upon reindeer corpse

***

At 4am the orphans woke 

To storm bell clattering 

And gathered round for daily routine 

In burlap sacks unflattering 

Noel set her course on Polaris 

And worked with diligence 

The only thing more impressive 

Was Harriet’s vigilance

Noel strove to be the best

St. Nick’s number one girl 

So Harriet hated her guts

Her face and all those curls 

The laziest orphan at the school

Harriet, 13, too  

St. Nick had room for one top girl 

Noel just would not do 

Revenge filled Harriet’s day dreams

Slights real and imagined

Waited for Noel to slip up 

Spite, her only passion 

Remmy spoke of North Pole visions

As girls ate cold fish gruel 

He sipped champagne and lectured on 

Manners of the old school 

Dabbed his mustache with a napkin 

Gave diatribes on forks

His knife work was spectacular 

His banter fireworks 

Taught what plate to anticipate 

Which spoon they must use 

Which bad habits would start to grate

Which cocktail glass to choose 

“Soon you’ll dine on gum drop biscuits

And ginger bread porridge 

Candy cane juice, sugar plum pies 

North Pole’s standard forage”

Remmy’s lusted for finer things

Crates pilled high filled his room 

Beamed up luxuries with deceit 

On rocks ships met their doom

Stack upon stack contraband piles

Stores of delicacies 

Seized from ship wrecks he salvaged

The false beams legacies 

***

After breakfast, orphan hygiene 

Freezing water stung them 

Single basin for all to share 

One toothbrush among them 

Post washing came cell inspection 

Tidy up cots and dress

Burlap sacks, straw mats worn threadbare  

Hard not to look a mess 

Then Remmy would walk down the line 

“Grace starts with how you stand"

Examined smiles, clothes, and posture

But focused on their hands

“Those hands, those tiny orphan hands

Innocent and fragile

The engine of this operation 

So nimble and agile”

***

Then it was time to work the line

Presses, pumps, and bellows

The orphans making ornaments 

In reds, greens, and yellows

“Watch your tiny hands, my dears”

Engines, belts, and sprockets 

“Once the machine is up to speed

There’s no way to stop it”

An ornament caught Noel’s eye

Made to adorn a tree 

“If they look magnificent there

How good they’d look on me”

She hung a pair upon her ears

And searched her reflection

She struck a pose amongst some hose 

Flashing bold impression 

But Harriet caught her off guard

Too stealthy to be seen 

Her rival tried to get revenge 

Hand ground in the machine 

But Noel smelled Harriet’s breath

Turned into crooked smile

A shove had her tumble on down 

Ornaments defiled

Remmy screamed: “Noel, to the pit!

Think you can replace this?

You’ll have ample of time to think on

Your place and what grace is”

***

Noel stewed in the chamber of woe 

With cold stone for a pillow 

Thinking hard with damp and rot 

Pondered peccadillos 

Noel seethed and plotted revenge

A thought would not abate

Something she never felt before 

A coldness known as hate 

***

Back in Koopman’s duplex penthouse 

The family stared aghast 

Replaying Parade fiasco 

A couple hours past

“Isidore Koopman, you fat slob!”  

Portia shouted at her step-son

“You always ruin everything

A whole year’s work, undone”

Izzy squeezed into a love seat

Admiring his work 

The shiftless 32 year old 

Responded with a smirk: 

“Christmas is bunk, a hollow lie

A mere capitalist fraud 

Consciousness needed to be raised

I employed shock and awe”

“Koopman’s is a family affair

That’s why we hired you

Now the union is furious 

What could have inspired you?”

“What do you mean you don’t know?

Everything confessed to 

I laid it out elegantly 

Didn’t you read my manifesto?”

“Do you mean that pile of scrap paper?

Those crayon scribblings?”

Flo the nanny said: “I read it

Not very convincing”

“You are nothing but a buffoon

You spoiled my parade

Befouled your sisters vocal debut 

Shattered peerless displays”

“See those children down there below

They’re waiting for Santa

Each one represents cold hard cash

Please, tell us your plan to…” 

“…Find a replacement for the man 

This late in the season

The union is blackballing us 

Hiring you, treason”

Portia departed with a sigh 

Leaving father and son

“I’ll never give up on you, boy

There's still work to be done”

“So, tell me what’s next? What’s your plan? 

You know I can’t fire you

What job is best for your passions

Tell me what inspires you”

“Izzy, what is it that you want?”

Steve asked his first-born son 

“The only thing I crave: justice 

Easier said than done”

“Koopman's is a family operation

Even if things get hard

How much damage could you get into

As security guard?”

***

Dunn arrived at the coroner

Gleaning information 

“What the hell happened to captain?

Make identification?”

“His name is Ivan Tankenov 

See this skull cross tattoo 

Russian gangster? Or Thieves in law? 

I'll bet cash that’s his crew”

“But the man wasn't set abalze 

No ash or loss of mass”

The captain's arm fell to the floor 

“…Well nothing accept for that” 

“If he were...