'Twas the night before Brucemas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a Deadite;
The Boomsticks were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that That the Bruce soon would be there;
The primitive screwheads were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of Necronomicon Ex Mortis danced in their heads;
And Shela's in her Lingerie, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's......oh baby,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed and grabbed my boomstick to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a chainsaw through flesh
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen gore
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature "classic", and eight tiny Ash all chained up and bridled, so the little shits can't start no fires,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Sam of the Rami
More rapid than beagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them bad names;
"Now, Asshole! now, Prick! now, Shit and you Bastard!
On, Fuckwad! on Retard! on, Slap-nuts and you Primitive Primates!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now die away! die away! die away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild time vortex fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, blast them out of the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the "classic full of Weapons and stuff, and St. Sam too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The slicing and dicing of each little deadite spawn.
As I drew in my boomstick, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Sam came with a bound.
He was dressed all in gore, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with little Ashes and Crap;
A bundle of Boomsticks he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how scary!
His cheeks were like pale bone, his nose like a mashed up patato!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And he had just shaved his beared off his chin which was as white as the Snow because of all the tissue paper he had use to stop the bleeding
The stump of a stoogie he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of bloody guts.
He was not chubby and plump, a right pissed of ole saint,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread;
He spoke the words,"KLATU, BARADA,NECKTOO"
And filled all the stockings with shot gun shells; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose, blew a farmers blow all over my clothes
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his Classic, to me gave a whistle,
And away he flew like superman, but cooler.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Burcemas to all, and to all a good-night."
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=24224963419
The Boomsticks were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that That the Bruce soon would be there;
The primitive screwheads were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of Necronomicon Ex Mortis danced in their heads;
And Shela's in her Lingerie, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's......oh baby,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed and grabbed my boomstick to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a chainsaw through flesh
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen gore
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature "classic", and eight tiny Ash all chained up and bridled, so the little shits can't start no fires,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Sam of the Rami
More rapid than beagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them bad names;
"Now, Asshole! now, Prick! now, Shit and you Bastard!
On, Fuckwad! on Retard! on, Slap-nuts and you Primitive Primates!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now die away! die away! die away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild time vortex fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, blast them out of the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the "classic full of Weapons and stuff, and St. Sam too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The slicing and dicing of each little deadite spawn.
As I drew in my boomstick, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Sam came with a bound.
He was dressed all in gore, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with little Ashes and Crap;
A bundle of Boomsticks he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how scary!
His cheeks were like pale bone, his nose like a mashed up patato!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And he had just shaved his beared off his chin which was as white as the Snow because of all the tissue paper he had use to stop the bleeding
The stump of a stoogie he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of bloody guts.
He was not chubby and plump, a right pissed of ole saint,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread;
He spoke the words,"KLATU, BARADA,NECKTOO"
And filled all the stockings with shot gun shells; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose, blew a farmers blow all over my clothes
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his Classic, to me gave a whistle,
And away he flew like superman, but cooler.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Burcemas to all, and to all a good-night."
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=24224963419
I felt like a twit.