All the authors on Odyssey loved Christmas a lot,

But Steven, who lived in a state of perpetual existential dread, did not.

And on November first, when he heard them cheer,

He knew it was now that dreaded time of year.

Yes, here, even now, on the first of November,

In the light of Jack-O-Lanterns’ dying embers,

The Odyssey writers sang Christmas carols,

And for the season, they all had gone feral.

Then the Steven had an idea.

An evil, awful idea.

An evil, awful, miserable, terrifying idea.

He made fun of Christmas on November first.

He made it known that he felt it was the worst.

And to these jolly, Christmas-y fiends,

He said, “Happy thirty-second day of Halloween!”

The writers were aghast by his creepy delight,

His aesthetic sent everyone into a fright.

And suddenly, for this frightening reason,

Christmas-time was no longer the season.

Now while the Odyssey writers all whine,

Steven says, “Spooky, scary skeletons, send shivers down your spine!”