(In light of the impending apocalypse, we are publishing the annual Christmas Eve bedtime story a bit early this year.)
'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the station,
the beancounter's heart
was filled with elation.
The balance sheet showed
she'd picked up the slack.
The red ink was gone,
now all was jet black.
The GM dropped by,
his face was just glowing,
since fewer employees
were coming than going.
He saw the beancounter's
demeanor was sunny.
But Christmas was coming,
could she save more money?
She said, "Don't you worry,
if staffers are mocking,
'cause I've got some coal
for each Christmas stocking."
"The bonus is history,
forget Christmas parties,
they all get a coupon
for a free Coke at Hardees."
"And thanks to the trend
of all one-man-band,
we've got half the staff now,
and more cash on hand."
"And look at the money
I've saved on the gear!
Our news looks like crap,
but we still do make air."
"The news cars are ancient,
as everyone knows,
but I've given each staffer
a new siphon hose!"
"The cameras are garbage,
they're all out of focus,
I've promised them new ones,
with some hocus pocus."
"The computers still work
though they're all out of date.
We can last five more years
till we need Windows Eight."
"You've done a great job,"
said the GM with pride,
"Now what about me?
How much can you hide?"
The beancounter gave him
a really big check.
She said, "Corporate won't know
the whole station's a wreck."
The GM said, "Thanks,
no one has to know.
Now pack up your beans,
I'd say you can go."
The beancounter put
all her ledgers to bed,
while visions of cutbacks
danced in her head.
She walked through the newsroom
bidding all a good night,
"Merry Christmas to all,
and please turn out the light!"
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