Tiny monsters grin beneath Santa hats, Guardians of the cracked windshield and dashboard grime. The driver’s knuckles are white on the wheel, While green bottles roll like cannonballs across the dash— Casual wreckage for an unscheduled trip to nowhere. Outside, the road is a smear of rain and brake lights, Reality warping under an endless blue haze. Those gremlins know something— A joke too cruel to share, But loud enough to fill the silence. The horizon blurs into oblivion, While the car rattles on, Dragging its cargo of holiday nightmares Into the cold, laughing dark.