How the #Cronk Cronked Christmas

Every New down in Newville liked living a lot…
But the Cronk, who lived just sort of nowhere, did NOT!
The Cronk hated living! The whole living season!
Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his head wasn’t screwed on just right.
It could be, perhaps, that his dabs were too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that this Cronk wasn’t too bright at all.
Whatever the reason, his brain or his shoes,
He shopped there in Fredtown, ignoring the news,
Staring out from his haze with some flow’r, loosely ground,
At the warm yellow glow of their pretty safe town.

For he knew every New down in Newville beneath,
Was busy now, hoping their zones would turn green.
And they’re shrinking their bubbles!” he sneezed without fear,
“Tomorrow’s a new day! It’s practically here!”
Then he coughed, with his Cronk fingers cronking,
“I MUST find some way to review this KingTut thing!”
For tomorrow, he knew, all the News of the town,
Would be how it’s all his fault. The hammer’d go down!
And then! Oh, his nose! Oh, his nose!
Nose! Nose! Nose!
That’s one thing he hated! The NOSE!
NOSE! NOSE! NOSE!
For the News, most alone, would sit down to a feast.
And they’d taste! and they’d taste! And they’d TASTE!
TASTE! TASTE! TASTE!
They would taste their whole meals,
while the Cronk not the least.
Which was something the Cronk couldn’t quite get at all -
He’d heard it meant something, but what? Who to call?
Every New down in Newville, the tall and the small,
Would shout out together, ‘NO 811 RINGING?
They’d tweeted their stand — Now the news would start singing!
They’d tell! And they’d tell! And they’d TELL!
TELL! TELL! TELL!
Of the Cronk’s other plans and his scammy poor thinking.
The more the Cronk thought, “I must stop this whole thing!”
“Why, for thirty-two days I’ve put up with it now!”
“I MUST stop this telling from telling! But HOW?”

Then he got an idea! A stupid idea!
THE CRONK GOT A WONDERFUL, STUPID IDEA!
“I know just what to do!” the Cronk coughed through a toke.
And he called CBC, quick, with some quotes.
And he coughed, and he hacked, “What a cool PR trick!”
“In my shirt (and quite whacked) I won’t look like a dick!”
“All I need is my name clear…”, The Cronk looked around.
“But the truth makes me look bad, and there’s none to be found.”
Did that stop the young Cronk? No! The Cronk simply said,
“If I can’t get my name clear, I’ll do more instead!”
He had recently posted to insta and said,
A whole stream of unfiltered thoughts from his head,
In which we can see all the dumb things he’d done.
WHENCE he told us of plans, and some travels, and one…
That there was, well, this one test his girlfriend had had…
Then the Cronk said, “I can’t taste — or smell — and cronked on,”
“I guess I’ll get tested,” and old Cronk? He moved on.

All the comments were mean. Quiet rage filled the air.
All the News were all fearing ‘bout their folks in long care.
When he came to the first little shop on his quest,
“This is stop number one,” the old Cronky guessed,
There he fitted himself, “Custom shirting, my guest!”,
And then went for some food, despite not feeling best.
But, if others could do it, then so could the Cronk.

He got asked many times, what’s your status — are you?
Someone who should be staying at home, as with flu?
When the questions came calling all wanting to know,
“These answers,” he smarmed, “are not for you to know!”
Then he slithered and slunk, with a smell most dankpleasnt,
Around the whole town, he dodged every question!
Coughing? Or Sneezing? Too close to someone?
Covid test? Hot Zones!? He’d lie for each one!
And he spread ‘round his germs. Where the Cronk, very simply,
Went on his dumb way, thinking really quite himly!
When he slunk to that shop here, that restaurant there -
He gave some of them Covid, with hardly a care!
He ruined their town, — now unsafe — in a flash.
Why, that Cronk even risked all the grans and grandads!
And then he left thinking that they did not know,
That their town was a place where danger would grow.

And the Cronk grabbed some weed, and he started to grind,
When he heard a small buzz, faintly, near his behind.
He grabbed his phone fast, and he saw some bad news!
His past, and his lies, were now coming by twos!
The Cronk had been caught with his stupid news fodder,
Who’d only been trying to sell his Cronk harder.
They’d stare at their screens and say, “Cortland Cronk? Wut?”
“You’ve got to be making all this stuff up!”
But, you know, that old Cronk was so dumb and so thick,
Those lies he’d thought up, he’d thought up so quick -
“Why, my sweet interviewer,” he confidently lied,
“There’s no info, no message, there’s no kind of guide!”
“So I did my most best and tried nothing at all,”
“And thought, ‘I’ll go shopping’ but not at the mall.

So his tale made the news, but they all shook their heads,
and gathered on Twitter, to find more that he’d said.
And when they got there, sat down and looked up
To see what the Cronk might have left to dig up
They found stuff that drove our trending tweets higher!
For they found an old posting, by Cronk, that old liar,
On walls he’d thought nothing of posting his flyer
Of his latest grand scheme, his biggest indeed-
Was this Cronk thing just a PR stunt for weed?
Then we heard of some things from some times quite long past
That sounded like scams, things that came from his ass!
“This can’t just blow over”, some said in a thread
‘Could de Adder get anything published?’, it said,
“Get your pitchforks! For shaming! We’re raging, seeing red!”
The weed! And the lies! Whatever he tries -
Three thousand co-tweets, upward trending, the top?
Their scorn chased him further but oh! Would he stop?
“No concern for the News!” he was Cronkily cronking.
“They’re finding out now that the season that’s coming!- ”
“Would come without grandparents, uncles, aunts too!”
“Their hospitals full, ICU beds — few -”
“They’ll all be filled up with friends, loved ones too!”
“That’s a thing,” cronked the Cronk, “That I simply DON’T hear!”
And continue, he did — it ramped up their fear.

Soon a sound could be heard rising over the snow.
It started in low. Then it started to grow.
But the sound wasn’t mad! No — this sound was fury!
It couldn’t be so! But it WAS fury. FURY!
He stared out at Newville. ‘The Cronk…PR lies?!’
Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise!

Every New down in Newville, who liked living a lot,
Was memeing! They say he deserved what he got!
He MIGHT have brought covid to Newville! IT CAME!
(‘Somehow or other, it’d come just the same!’)
And the Cronk, with his cronk-feet-stoned-cold in his grow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could they not know?”
“I’m not a bad guy! I’m not a douchebag!”
“I’m just a dope trender who’s shilling weed swag!”
And he cronked for the day, till his cronker was sore,
Then the Cronk thought of something he hadn’t before!
“Maybe Insta,” he cronked, “wasn’t quite the best plan.”
“Should I take my vid down…just maybe before…?”

And what happened then? Well…In Newville they say,
That the Cronk’s cronk shop’s rep grew three sizes that day!
But when it sunk in — he did not feel too bright,
He learned that his upload was bringing to light,
All the stories he told, his deletion, too late!
That he, HIS CRONKSELF! Had outcronked #peegate!