12-24-2012, 02:31 PM
(12-23-2012, 08:03 PM)Duchess Wrote:
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Kingdom of Mock
Not a creature was stirring, not even a troll sock.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The Mockers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Sally's hooters danced in their heads.
And User in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s fap.
When out on the moat there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from User's arms to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up last nights corned beef hash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny troll queer.
That's as far I got, I now have writers block. Bah.
With a leathered chap driver, cut and slick,
I knew this couldn’t be St. Nick.
Who was on my rooftop way up high;
It was his gayness Sphincter Cop looking so sly.
His bedazzled brilliance had no shame;
As he snapped his fingers, and twirled as he called them by name!