‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a --
What in the flying fuck is this?
...Not even a--
Yo! I’m talkin’ to you down here!
-Sigh- The ghost demon known as Crowlee found himself in an abstract theatrical space, outside of the realm of Earthland. He--
Stop talking about where I am, no one gives a shit. What in the hell are you reading?
The ghost demon Crowlee was wondering about the source of the story he was hearing in his head, the old tale known as ‘The Night Before Christmas’. It--
Night before Chri- I -know- what The Night Before Christmas is, fleshsack! Why are you reading it?
Crowlee had apparently missed that it was Christmas Eve and such tales were recited to children on this particular evening, to send them off to dreamland thinking happy thoughts about Santa.
Dude that sounds awful. Like Hallmark levels of awful and they kept repeating the same formula over and over. Rich white woman is convinced to leave her rich white woman life to settle down with humble farmer boy because Christmas spirit or some shit. How ‘bout you give me a shot, huh? I’m -real- good with stories.
Crowlee sought fruitlessly to take part in the Christmas tradition but unfortunately--
No! Not this time! It’s Christmas and that means wishes come true. So my wish is for your pompous ass to take a backseat and let the Specter of Spectacle play quarterback for once.
Crowlee--
Alright that’s it, fucknugget. C’mere!
Cro-
Thheeeeere we are. Now who has the keyboard? Alright, skinbags… here’s -my- Night Before Christmas.
‘Twas the eve before Christmas, and all through the land,
The presents were wrapped, one of each brand;
The cookies and milk were all laid out to eat,
In hopes that St. Crowlee would soon come to greet;
The kiddies and parents were all sleeping so nice,
While dreams filled their noggins, all sugar and spice;
And Thana with her whip, and I in my gimp suit,
Had settled on a safe word, aw, aren’t we cute;
When suddenly out on the street there’s a boom!
We threw on our robes and ran out of the room;
Out the door did we sprint, oh how fast did we run,
To find our ‘hood on fire! As bright as the sun;
The moon in the sky illuminated the scene,
And red fountains everywhere, if you know what I mean;
The neighbors were burning, still others were slaughtered,
As the gory red droplets ensured the plants were well watered;
Out in the distance, hey-yo! What could it be,
On a pitch black sleigh that smelled awful of pee;
Seven skeletal reindeer, each one rotten and fierce,
With eyes glowing red, my soul they did pierce;
From above came a voice, one sexy and hunky,
And definitely not one that makes him sound like a junky;
“Now, Blitzkrieg and Adolf! Now Satan and Luci!
Hold, Cancer, hold Plagueius, hold, Wet Ass Pussy!”
A figure too dark to see through the smoke,
Crept in through the chimney, the swift-footed bloke!
St. Crowlee had come! Oh joy, oh what fun,
No greater Christmas spirit, second to none;
Back into the house, to our tree we did go,
With Thana looking as excited as a veteran ho;
He was dressed all in black, from his feet to his hair,
With bloody red fur, some right here and some there;
A big brown bag full of goodies on his back,
As he eyed Thana and muttered about emptying his sack;
His eyes -- how they hungered! His blotches, how red!
And a jolly large stomach, to show he’s well fed;
His cheeks were sunken, his nose red from coke,
And a stench so intense that it made me gag and choke;
“You’re not real” he said. “You’re on a roleplaying site”,
“Where weebs, nerds and dorks go to mingle and write.”
I laughed and I laughed as my sanity caved in,
My face twisting and contorting in a manic grin;
St. Crowlee just chortled, his big belly shaking,
“Now you, my dear Thana, are mine for the taking”
I tried to speak up. “That’s my wife, my dear man!”
But the words fell flat as I was hit with a pan;
Thana had whacked me, a wicked smirk on her face,
Our connection, our love, she sought to erase;
I tried to get up and her hands, they embraced me,
She said “Rest now, fool, time to be free”;
Then crack! In an instant, I felt nothing all,
My neck she had snapped, and down did I fall;
They laughed, they sighed then they frenched, mouths wide,
As St. Crowlee made a cocktail, the molotov kind;
With nothing to do but lie there and stare,
I watched as my house went up in a flare;
“Join the rest of my bitches, we can have such sex!”
Crowlee said to my wife, and what happened next?
Well I’m not sure, I’m fucking burning from fire,
My house nothing more than a funeral pyre;
But I heard one last thing, one last nugget of glee,
As St. Crowlee took Thana to ride his goatee;
“This poem isn’t perfect, but I’m still having a blast,
As I get to plow all these hotties, brutal and fast;
But it’s still Christmas I guess, so let’s spread some cheer,
As we all pray that what’s coming is better than this year;
Merry Christmas, you fucks, go out and enjoy,
Goodnight to you all, each girl and each boy.”
