The holiday season is upon us and it is, in fact, Christmas Day. But that doesn't just mean StarTrek.com is taking to giant vats of egg nog like an M-133 Creature looking thirsty for salt. It means we're taking time to reflect on how the spirit of the season inhabits our favorite franchise.
With any luck you'll find what follows to be a bit of goofy good cheer, and maybe share it with your fellow geeky friends on Facebook. If not, well, I'll just blame it on too much egg nog.
A Visit From St. Neelix (with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)
'Twas the night before Christmas when all near the wormhole
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Cardassian Vole;
The gravity boots were hung by the replicator with care,
In hopes that St. Neelix soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their biobeds,
While visions of moba fruit danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long aphelion orbit's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the (anti)-matter.
Away to the ion pod I flew like a flash,
Opened up hailing frequencies and threw up the sash.
The space station on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature runabout, and eight sehlat-reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Neelix.
More rapid than Xindi his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, SISKO! now, JANEWAY! now, ARCHER and KIRK!
On, ORCI! on KURTZMAN! on J.J and BRYAN BURK!
To the top of the quadrant! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild plasma storm fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the pylons the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Neelix too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the transporter St. Neelix came with a bound.
He was dressed in Garak's finest, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with dilithium ash and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a Ferengi just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as orange as Vulcan snow;
The stump of a Ressikan Flute he held tight in his teeth,
And the notes it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly Talaxian elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He mind-melded not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the gravity boots; then turned with a jerk,
And splaying four fingers aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the transporter he rose;
He sprang to his runabout, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all warped like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
LIVE LONG AND PROSPER TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!
Jordan Hoffman is a writer, critic and lapsed filmmaker living in New York City. His work can also be seen on Film.com, ScreenCrush and Badass Digest. On his BLOG, Jordan has reviewed all 727 Trek episodes and films, most of the comics and some of the novels.