The Evil Returns

Oh they're back, I saw them this morning, back from dank hole internment, and you who scoff at me, you Auld Manhattoe sophisticates, if they are so safe, then why are they lashed so strongly to the mighty pillars of the UBS Building, yes lashed, their height towering over me as I walk through the revolving doors, their evil red jackets and Frankenstein-jawed faces, they mean me ill, even as I see poor innocent children posed amid their giant white legs as their tourist parents, unaware, snap pictures (and how many of those pictures, in scrapbooks throughout America, have me in the background, smoking my cigarette and balefully gazing at those evil apparitions?).

Oh yes, the evil returns, the giant nutcracker men lining the front of my workplace, and they laugh, oh they scorn me but I know those jaws are waiting, waiting for the dead of midtown night, when few souls are in sight, they come alive, snarling and gnashing their hideous jaws (and for what purpose those jaws, I ask, where are there walnuts or pecans large enough to need such a puissant cracker?), straining at the restraints binding them to their pillars, and mark my words, one day they will break loose and the carnage will not be pretty.