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But to complete the theft idea, I've taken the liberty of modifying the original poem, and turn it's context into something... different. While not as offensive (at least until the end) and nearly as funny as Freedans, I hope you all get some enjoyment out of it. It is partially inspired by my TE Crisis story- you'll see how.
Inspired by the poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas" by Clement Clarke Moore, here is
Twas the Night Before Christmas: TE Edition
By SBiF, Aka Rob Martin, stolen from some other guy
(EDIT: Don't expect some witty, new rhymes. It's not my forte. Hell, don't expect it to rhyme at points at all
)'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the hall
Not a hero was stirring, not even a Chicken;
The stockings were hung by the entrance with care,
In hopes that St. Boxolas soon would be there;
The heroes were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of super-villains danced in their heads;
And Raini with her mallet, and Freedan in his baseball cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap (No, not that kind),
When out on the steps there came such a clatter,
I jumped from the bed to see what was the matta.
Away to the window I ran like the Flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The two moons on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to Raini's minions below,
When, what to my shifting eyes did appear,
But a big-ass sleigh, and eight flying superheroes,
With a God-like driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Boxo-nick.
More rapid than planes his heroes they came,
And he hollered, and shouted, and typed them by name;
"Now, Jason! now, Tay! now, Ark and Valerie!
On, Blade! on eFlare! on, Deathpit and Everphoenix!
To the top of the steps! to the top of the wall!
Now fly away! fly away! Fly away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane did fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, blew it out of the sky.
So up to the roof-top the heroes they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Boxolas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and stepping of each little foot.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Boxolas came with a sound.
He was dressed all in denim, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung over his back,
And he looked like a webmaster (:D) just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how cheery!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His boxious little mouth was drawn up like a square,
And the beard of his chin was as generic as a box like square;
(o.O; Sorry, best I could do on two hours sleep)
He was skinny and slumped, a right jolly ole’ elf,
And I laughed and pointed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a turn of his head,
Soon let me know I had nothing to dread;
He typed not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And pressing his finger to the tip of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He jumped to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him proclaim, as he flew out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all TerraEarthians, and to all a good-night!"
Alternate ending, to all you “PC” mother fuckers out there;
"Happy Holidays to all TerraEarthians, and to all a good-night!”
