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The following is a parody of "The Night Before Christmas"
It depicts a fictional experience of Christmas on Skynet's SCP servers where our parody of Santa "The Ghost Of Christmas Past" saves D-Class and kills anyone who disses X-Mas.
‘Twas Skynet's night before Christmas, when all thro’ the Gmod,
Not a player was stirring, not even rod;
The KOS signs were hung by D-Block with care,
In hopes that D-Class would be stuck there;
The children were screaming when they should be in bed,
While migraines from squeakers danc’d in staff heads,
And William in TS, and Pheonix in there too,
Had just updated the server me and you-
When out in the Foundation there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from the Shoutbox to see what was the matter.
Away to D-Block I flew like the flash,
Tore down the lockdown and threw up the warns.
The morons & the rest of the new D-Classes recently born,
Gave the lustre of cringe to events below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a minature sleigh, and a six-eight-two rein-deer,
With a familiar driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be that familiar prick.
More dangerous than deagles his courser it came,
And he sang, and shouted, and call’d them names:
“Pow! Bitches, pow! Gay-Lords, pow! Cancer, and Bigots,
“On! Shrimp-Dick, on! Midgets, on! Shit-for-brains and Fuckers!;
“To the surface of the map! to build the wall!
“Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!â€
(this part of the original poem is omit because I am lazy, sooorry)
Down the halls Jon Goodmen came with a hound:
He was dress’d in !cloak, from his head to his toes,
And his clothes were all tarnish’d with blood as it usually goes;
A bundle of weapons was hung on his back,
And he look’d like a peddler just opening his pack:
His eyes - how they twinkled! his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose brown like a rotten cherry;
His trolling little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his neck was as long as the Will's dick;
The stump of a penis he held tight was his prick,
And the dumb-assery it encircled his brain like a wreath.
He had a broad face, and a little round bell
That when shook as he laugh’d, sounded like a world full of hell:
He was scrawny and sad, a proper memer,
And I laugh’d when I saw him in spite of him breaking my femur;
A wink of his eye and a twist of my head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing as I was dead.
He spoke many a word, but went straight to his work,
And fill’d all our asses; then turn’d with a twerk,
And laying his finger inside of his nose
And giving a nod, through the ceiling he rose.
He sprung to his sleigh, to his haters he gave a "shoo!",
And away they all scuttled, like the down of a thistle:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-
Happy Hanukkah to all, and to all a good night.
It depicts a fictional experience of Christmas on Skynet's SCP servers where our parody of Santa "The Ghost Of Christmas Past" saves D-Class and kills anyone who disses X-Mas.
‘Twas Skynet's night before Christmas, when all thro’ the Gmod,
Not a player was stirring, not even rod;
The KOS signs were hung by D-Block with care,
In hopes that D-Class would be stuck there;
The children were screaming when they should be in bed,
While migraines from squeakers danc’d in staff heads,
And William in TS, and Pheonix in there too,
Had just updated the server me and you-
When out in the Foundation there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from the Shoutbox to see what was the matter.
Away to D-Block I flew like the flash,
Tore down the lockdown and threw up the warns.
The morons & the rest of the new D-Classes recently born,
Gave the lustre of cringe to events below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a minature sleigh, and a six-eight-two rein-deer,
With a familiar driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be that familiar prick.
More dangerous than deagles his courser it came,
And he sang, and shouted, and call’d them names:
“Pow! Bitches, pow! Gay-Lords, pow! Cancer, and Bigots,
“On! Shrimp-Dick, on! Midgets, on! Shit-for-brains and Fuckers!;
“To the surface of the map! to build the wall!
“Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!â€
(this part of the original poem is omit because I am lazy, sooorry)
Down the halls Jon Goodmen came with a hound:
He was dress’d in !cloak, from his head to his toes,
And his clothes were all tarnish’d with blood as it usually goes;
A bundle of weapons was hung on his back,
And he look’d like a peddler just opening his pack:
His eyes - how they twinkled! his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose brown like a rotten cherry;
His trolling little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his neck was as long as the Will's dick;
The stump of a penis he held tight was his prick,
And the dumb-assery it encircled his brain like a wreath.
He had a broad face, and a little round bell
That when shook as he laugh’d, sounded like a world full of hell:
He was scrawny and sad, a proper memer,
And I laugh’d when I saw him in spite of him breaking my femur;
A wink of his eye and a twist of my head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing as I was dead.
He spoke many a word, but went straight to his work,
And fill’d all our asses; then turn’d with a twerk,
And laying his finger inside of his nose
And giving a nod, through the ceiling he rose.
He sprung to his sleigh, to his haters he gave a "shoo!",
And away they all scuttled, like the down of a thistle:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-
Happy Hanukkah to all, and to all a good night.