The Cautionary Tale Of Little Jimmy, Who Deliberately Didn't Do What He Was Told And Thus Met An Unexpected And Unfortunate End At The Hands Of The Advent Calendar Man

This is the story of Little Boy Jimmy
A boy with aversions to the warnings of others
His fate was caused by his own curiosity
If only he'd listened to his own dear old mother.

One day Little Jimmy was sitting at home
'Twas Advent - precisely, day number five
His hard-working mother was doing her ironing
Young Jim was testing her wish to be alive.

"Mother," he said, with a glint in his eye
"Advent is such a terrible bore.
I've got my tedious chocolatey calendar
I've opened doors one, two, three and four."

"I know for a fact that behind number five
Is nothing really that greatly exciting
I've got a temptation to open no more
The idea of ignoring it seems quite inviting."

"Listen here..." said his mother, as she set down her iron
Said Jim: "Just try and stop me...if you think you can!"
"I cannot," said his mother "but there is someone who might -
And his name is the ADVENT CALENDAR MAN."

"Advent Calendar Man? The height of pathetic!
It bores me rather than moves me to tears
I'm six - nearly seven - and you must know by now
You can no longer plague me with infantile fears."

His mother seemed rather alarmed at his speech
She motioned for quiet, and drew Jimmy near
She shut all the blinds, and locked all the windows
She whispered cautiously in his left ear:

"If you consistently fail to listen
To the sage thoughts of your own dear old mother
Consider then the tragic anecdote of
What happened to Cecil, your late elder brother."

"Cecil had the same thought as you
Of the Advent Calendar Man he wasn't scared
One day he failed to open a door
The Calendar Man caught him unprepared..."

"...And when we came to wake him next morning
All that could be found was a miniscule heap
Of ashes and dust which might once have been Cecil
Your brother just burned up while he was asleep."

To this interesting tale little Jimmy replied
(After a long and deliberate pause)
In a cynical way: "You'll be telling me next
To be scared of that kindly man old Santa Claus."

His mother said "My boy, I tell you I might.
That Santa Claus is nearly as scary
You wouldn't want to cross his path either
But the Calendar Man is much, much more hairy."

"Well," said Jim, in a dramatic u-turn
"To your solemn advice I am greatly indebted
Your wise words and tale of that wretched boy Cecil
Have deterred me from something I might have regretted."

His mother was content and continued her chores
Obviously she didn't know Little Jim well
In place of mild interest, there was now deep attraction
Her counsel had rung no loud alarm bell.

The next day (the day of December the sixth)
Jim did not open the calendar door
This fact was not seen by his occupied mother
(She was too busy removing a stain from the floor.)

As Jimmy got into his warm bed that night
His nonchalance had reached a new, higher peak
"Mr Calendar Man can come here if he wants
And I shall not respond with so much as a squeak."

The clock in the hall it struck the hour midnight
It struck one, it struck two, it struck quarter-past three
Little Jim hugged his knees, and bragged to himself
"The Calendar Man shall never catch ME!"

At around the time of twenty to four
When Jim was beginning to frequently yawn
A creak on the landing made him sit upright
And a nasty suspicion was suddenly born.

That Calendar Man! He must be outside!
Just waiting to come and incinerate Jim!
(Who said to himself, still faking bravado
"Pah, Calendar Man, I'm not scared of him!")

Suddenly, with a whoosh, a swoop and a crash
A masked, booted shadow sprang into view
He cried "I am the ADVENT CALENDAR MAN!
And I have come to get rid of you!"

"Your naughty bad actions - or lack of - are noted
You cannot escape my team of assistants
I admire you, however, you plucky young Jim
For your tenacity and your continued persistence."

The Man paused here - a chance for reply
But Jim could not utter one single small sound
The Man chuckled, swirled his cloak, and finally said
"Right then...time for you to meet my fire-hound."

Jim could not imagine what might be his meaning
He supposed it some kind of strange metaphor
The Man gave a whistle, and a low sort of hum...
Jim jumped as a black dog jumped through the door.

The Man petted it briefly, then gestured at Jim
The oily dog gave him a surveying glance
His eyes were bright black, like small beads of jet
Little Jimmy never had the ghost of a chance.

"Any last words?" said the Man, with a grin
Jim could not move, he only could stare
"Thought not," said the man, and clicked his gloved fingers
He knew what would happen...but he did not care.

Little Jim was entranced by the night in that look
Red flashing sparks danced, he became hypnotised
Then suddenly, as if he were hit by a flamethrower
There was a great heat, and he was vaporised.

"Good dog," said the Man, "you did your job well."
The dog, for his part, looked quite satisfied.
"I must say, fire-hound, your aim is improving...
This time, only the boy was flash-fried."

With a jump and a quiver, they both were quite gone
The room was quite dark, there was no bright flame
Of course, there was the matter of the absence of Jim
A boy who thought Advent was only a game.

And laser that morning, his mother was greeted
By the sight of the lack of her only young son
She broke down in tears, then quickly recovered
After all, there was the clean-up of Jim to be done.

With a brush and a dustpan she swept up young Jimmy
With a flick of her wrist she had thrown him outside
Now she was the owner of a new, clean spare bedroom
But not of a son who persistently lied.

The end of our narrative now is quite close
Take note of the plight of unhappy young Jim
Take heed of the warnings your mother may give you
And you will not suffer the same fate as him.