Friday, December 18, 2020

Klaus

A new recruit to the national postal service lounges in august pamper, unconcerned with military discipline since he's related to the big kahuna.

Yet his antics have inspired contempt within the stilted command structure, which decides to test his mettle through expeditious transfer.

His assignment's the worst available far off and inhospitable, the townsfolk feuding in bleak decay and none too fond of light or merriment.

His initial attempts to establish a post office are theatrically rebuffed, the inhabitants more concerned with enraging representatives of opposing clans.

The teacher's given up and transformed her school into a fish market, and what used to pass for casual conversation is now infused with bland mistrust.

The children are quite downcast with grim ill-will stunting their growth, animosity they fail to comprehend since its plain and simply much too childish.

But the new mailperson discovers an address remotely situated within the forest, and decides to venture forth to nurture friendly relations.

At first the man seems grumpy disinclined to welcome guests, but as time passes a soft heart emerges once attuned to jokes and jests.

It turns out he's a skilled toymaker who's never found a clientele, to thoroughly enjoy his effervescent nifty swell.

A team is forged through bright goodwill endemic conflict notwithstanding, to joyously illuminate mirth laughter playful planning.

Something much less supernatural yet adventurously fated, to bring about consoling clout luminosity backdated.

Well put together patient strands unified with daring poise, to storytell through quench and quell enduring corduroy.

A turn around fulfillment found the sprightly communal favour, year after year enriching cheer this Klaus emits sun savour.

More for kids yet still unbid still cordially composed, its depths dispersed its clefts expertly animating growth.

Who knows perhaps through spits and spats this film could bring together, antipodes wildly opposed destructive feudal feathers.

At least at Christmas there's no need for postures left or right, non-denominational goodwill persisting light.

Could be that way no need to bray the future's neverending.

Old school lame polemics tamed diplomacy a' trending.  

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