I've been staring into the headlights of a fast approaching Christmas. I wanted to write a little seasonal verse but nothing worth writing has crossed my mind. Maybe it'll happen in the next few days.
In the meantime, here's a pastiche that I threw together for a comment on Making Light. (Not exactly thrown together, since it took me a couple of hours, but it's definitely not polished.) The topic under discussion was how fictional characters feel about the way authors manipulate them.
"You are old, Father Yahweh," the fabulist said,
"And your wrath has grown harder to sell.
So I've written a sequel with you as the head
Where your son comes to earth for a spell."
"In my youth," Father Yahweh replied to young Luke,
"I was One and I shall always be.
But your tale has poor Mary knocked up by my spook!
By that count, you've split me in three."
"You are old," Luke continued, "Your foibles re food
Make you pointlessly picky on chow.
So act 10 will have Peter in visions conclude
That you're cool with non-kosher from now."
"In my youth," said the lord, "I had flavor and fire.
My restrictions were worn like a brand.
Now you let people eat anything they desire?
Makes my character spineless and bland."
"You are old, Father Yahweh," a tax man said,
"And your rules have left too many holes.
So I've called it a sin: the mere thought of a bed.
We'll make normal kids fear for their souls."
"In my youth," said the god, "I made sex. It was grand!
Men had slave girls and multiple wives.
Now you've made me the watcher of every lad's hand --
The repressor of natural drives."
"You are old, Father Yahweh," the tax man accused,
"And your justice took eye for an eye,
But we noticed that principle being abused
So we're giving forgiveness a try."
"Enough of your cheek!" Yahweh yelled from his throne,
"Your non-canon fanfic can't stand."
But a meme, once ignited, has life of its own
And the retcon continued as planned.