The Night Before Chris-mas

by **Maxwell** 12/24/2013, 1:48 pm

Presenting, This year's Geneforce Christmas Story! I did my best with some of the rhyming, so i apologize if any of it seems off or not very rhyme-y.

Twas the night before Chris-mas, when all through ChrisCo.

Not a machine was whirring, not even the company's disco.

The smoke traps were hung by the incenerator with care,

In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The workers were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of world domination danced in their heads.

Gearick and his beeping, and Lord Chris in his cape,

Had just settled in for a good night's sleep.

When out in the Courtyard there arose such a clatter,

Lord Chris climbed to the roof to see what was the matter.

"Kringle..." he whispered, sniper rifle at the ready,

"My arch-enemy" he finished, with his aim quite steady.

The moonlight cast its light on the new-fallen snow

Giving the light of mid-day to objects below.

Lord Chris aimed and breathed just like he had been taught,

He was taught how to shoot? HAHAHA I think not.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

Lord Chris knew he had to end Saint Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And Saint Nick whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As Lord Chris pulled the trigger, he let the bullet fly,

The shot rang out like a crow's caw in the sky.

A young Wrave woke up to such a loud noise,

He walked over to the window, almost tripping on his weap..... toys.

And then, in a ruckus, Wrave heard on the roof

The panicked thumping of the reindeer's hoof.

As he drew in his head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Saint Chris-olas came with a bound.

He was now dressed in red, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of "Toys" he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a mastermind, upon the floor he placed the sack.

His eyes-how they twinkled with a look so vile!

His cheeks were like roses, and he gave a cold smile!

His cape billowed epicly in the non-existent wind,

And he flipped a switch and the room lights dimmed.

The stump of a candycane he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it gave off circled his head like a wreath.

A smoking candycane, now that didn't seem right,

Was he leaving explosives for his employees that night?

His fur was purple and his head-fluff of silver

And Wrave laughed when he saw him, decked out in decor!

A flip of the bird and a twist of his head,

Told Wrave he should get his ass back to bed.

He spoke not a word, but finished up his job,

And set off the smoke bombs, then turned with a bob.

He placed the last gift with an everlasting smirk.

Up the chimney he rose finally finished with his work!

He sprang to the roof, to his jetpack he gave a wave,

And away he flew like Genesis and his stave.

But the workers heard him exclaim, as he jetpacked from sight,

"Happy Chris-mas to all, and to all an evil rawr-night!"

by **Blastion** 12/24/2013, 2:02 pm

Huh...

by **Rocky** 12/24/2013, 4:19 pm

Ahahahaha!! I love it!
The insanity and silliness topped with the descriptive and creative writing makes this short poem work so well!
Great job, Luna!! I truly mean it! ^_^

by **Star Phoenix** 12/24/2013, 9:01 pm

This is amazing!! "A flip of the bird and a twist of his head, Told Wrave he should get his ass back to bed." Favorite part!!

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