Mercury
Marauder
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2005
- Posts
- 6,655
- Location
- Michigan, USA
- Society
- Dark Templar
- Avatar Name
- Jenna "Star" Mercury
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Fort Troy
not a creature was stirring, not even a gamer She-Boy.
The stockings were hung by the hotty Dark Knight girl's chair,
in hopes that Star Mercury soon would be there.
The gamers were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of Mayhem Harnesses danced in their heads.
And Mama in her Stormcoat, and I in my prophylactic cap,
had just settled ourselves down for a long winter's nap.
When out on the roof there arose such a twitter,
I sprang from my storage and drew my foeripper.
Away to the oil rig I teleported with a prance,
tore open a nooby, and proceeded to tapdance.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen noob
gave the lustre of midday to my avatar's left boob,
when, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
but a miniature cK highly intoxicated on beer.
With a little old driver, so lively and port,
I knew in a moment it must be Rilort.
More rapid than an eagle, his ck's they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Angel! Now Leafren! Now, Sacklitch and Rei!
On, Rep! On Belza! On, Sibbuk and Skippie!
To the top of the hill! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricanes fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the heavens the cK's they flew,
my mamba skyward hath blew.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the hill
the landing and firing of each little kill.
As I drew my head and was turning around,
down the hill Skalman came with a bound.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A gun full of ammo he flung on his back,
And his avatar looked like a drug peddler seriously hooked on crack.
His gun--how it twinkled! His armor, so scary!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
He stunk like Bacardi and Zychion hookers,
and the beard on his chin was white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he packed tight full of hash,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a spaceship crash.
He had a broad face and a little round belly.
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of Alicenies Jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old ant,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of his rant.
A wink of his eye
and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had was seriously dead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled me with bullets, letting me know I was a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his gun,
and giving a charge, he called on his ants to come have some fun.
He sprang to action, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew to the rig like a guided missle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere I revived out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
not a creature was stirring, not even a gamer She-Boy.
The stockings were hung by the hotty Dark Knight girl's chair,
in hopes that Star Mercury soon would be there.
The gamers were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of Mayhem Harnesses danced in their heads.
And Mama in her Stormcoat, and I in my prophylactic cap,
had just settled ourselves down for a long winter's nap.
When out on the roof there arose such a twitter,
I sprang from my storage and drew my foeripper.
Away to the oil rig I teleported with a prance,
tore open a nooby, and proceeded to tapdance.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen noob
gave the lustre of midday to my avatar's left boob,
when, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
but a miniature cK highly intoxicated on beer.
With a little old driver, so lively and port,
I knew in a moment it must be Rilort.
More rapid than an eagle, his ck's they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Angel! Now Leafren! Now, Sacklitch and Rei!
On, Rep! On Belza! On, Sibbuk and Skippie!
To the top of the hill! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricanes fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the heavens the cK's they flew,
my mamba skyward hath blew.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the hill
the landing and firing of each little kill.
As I drew my head and was turning around,
down the hill Skalman came with a bound.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A gun full of ammo he flung on his back,
And his avatar looked like a drug peddler seriously hooked on crack.
His gun--how it twinkled! His armor, so scary!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
He stunk like Bacardi and Zychion hookers,
and the beard on his chin was white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he packed tight full of hash,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a spaceship crash.
He had a broad face and a little round belly.
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of Alicenies Jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old ant,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of his rant.
A wink of his eye
and a twist of his headsoon gave me to know I had was seriously dead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled me with bullets, letting me know I was a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his gun,
and giving a charge, he called on his ants to come have some fun.
He sprang to action, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew to the rig like a guided missle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere I revived out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
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