Posted - 2008.12.24 11:59:00 - [1]

 

Edited by: Necronomicon on 24/12/2008 11:59:34
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the system
Not a neutral was stirring, not even a pithum.
The bubbles were anchored by the stargate with care,
In hopes that a hauler soon would be there.

The pilots were nestled all snug in their pods,
While visions of officer drops danced in their thoughts.
And Eddz in his Rapier, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s camp.

When out on the teamspeak arose such a clatter,
I minimized my pawn to see what’s the matter.
Alt Tabbed to my Eve screen like a flash,
Changed my overview settings, ready for a bash.

The moon on the breast of Ironwulf’s Crow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old pilot, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than Vagas his support they came,
And he 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!
Get out of the bubble, someone target call!
Now run away! run away! run away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up and away from the stargate they flew,
With the sleigh full of loot, and St Nicholas too.

And then, over teamspeak, I heard it from Eddz
”PRIMARY NICK AND THAT BLOODY TART’S SLED”
As I drew my guns round, and started to strafe
I realised that bastard Nick must have Snakes.

The reindeer were falling in front of our eyes,
Our support were all over poor Santa likes flies.
My blasters were hitting the reindeer point blank
For reference it seems Santa Claus honour tanks.

The once proud old man, who was always so Merry!
Was now smacking in local like a half baked Tri Fairy!
His foul little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
As his hull fell apart with the sweet final blow.

We watched the explosion and awaited the nod,
”Someone get a point on that fat smacktard’s pod”.
As the killshots came in, in a bloodlusting melee,
The pod died with a splut, like a bowlful of jelly!

Once chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
The corpse was now tiny compared to himself!
A poke of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon led me to know the smug bastard was dead.

We spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all our cargos, then turned with a jerk.
Speed up all our engines to maximum Rate,
One last look at the carnage and aligned for the gate!

We have all your presents, you can all go and whistle,
Under the KIA tree with loot it does bristle.
But here we do cry as we fly out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"