Phonemelter 说:Winning isn't everything.
Best motivational speech ever. 10/10, would defo hire Melter as sports team coach.
Unovte
[Werewolf] SMAC: Unity [Game ends!]
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Best motivational speech ever. 10/10, would defo hire Melter as sports team coach.
Unovte
FrisianDude
Archduke
oh is that how it is! Racist.Adaham 说:
the Magpie one was Pizza. The one with mute/minute uses the wrong 'minute' and it doesn't rhyme. For shyme. "To meet ya/ creature" was amusing.
Jade monkey was probably Llandy. Sounds rpg-y. :þ Also imma have to assume the missing player(s) simply didn't add one, it's not compulsory is it? Also I had totally missed the wall as well so thanks for the quoting Llandy.
Imma be more sensible later.
FrisianDude 说:
What?
Oh, never mind, I see what you mean.
Mute/minute isn't perfect rhyme, it's slant rhyme. Only somebody realted to several old Danish poet-kings would post something like that.
Mute/minute isn't perfect rhyme, it's slant rhyme. Only somebody realted to several old Danish poet-kings would post something like that.
Pharaoh X Llandy 说:
I would like to know why the serious and valid concerns regarding me are apparently not so concerning as to keep your vote parked there rather than on Xardob, and then would like to know exactly how serious and valid they are.
Also, Vote: Xardob.
In lieu of a LOS, I'll just say that the three people that seem the most suspicious currently seem to be Xardob, Vieira, and Sootshade, with Llandy running up.
Vermillion_Hawk 说:
Well, my vote isn't actually on Xardob. For which I am infinitely glad, because your vote here would make number four.. But sure. Let's see...
The number of questions I asked you on Day 1 which remain unanswered, multiplied by the amount of time I intend to spend re-reading the thread over the next three days, including your +1 narcissism bonus for making the first piece of interaction you've done in almost a whole week a question about yourself, added to the Llandy Coefficient...
I'm pleased to report that by my calculations your answers should be ready in eight days
Pharaoh X Llandy 说:
I'll take a look at the progression again but he felt, all game long, like he hasn't really cared who dies.
I do like the Magpie one, BUT.
I know how to rhyme.
Besides....
My pokemans. Let me show you them.
I know how to rhyme.
Besides....
My pokemans. Let me show you them.
Twas the night before Solstice, when all through the house
Santa could find no respite from his shrew of a spouse.
He watched Ultimate Fighting on the TV that blared
sounds of violence loud enough for the hearing impaired.
His lips glistened with the grease of a charred black boar,
As he popped several Vicodin, while cheering Randy Couture.
"Choke him! Pound him! Turn his face bloody red!
Make Santa proud, put your fist through his head!"
Mrs. Claus stomped in, and she started to growl,
"TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE NOW!!!!" yelled Mrs. Claus with a scowl.
Santa grabbed his beer bottle and tossed it at her face.
"Do it yourself, you old nag, and kindly get off my case!"
When out in the garage there sounded a crash
"Dangit, what now?" spat Nick, his teeth starting to gnash.
Away to the cellar he stormed, looking quite pissed
He swore that he'd beat whoever it was with his fists.
He opened the door and switched on the light
The scene Santa saw just couldn't be right...
The garage door was busted; smashed right in, it seemed,
With red-faced fury, Saint Nicholas screamed:
"Who could have done this, what hoodlum, what vandal?"
But what Santa saw next made him fly off the handle.
Hoof prints in the snow, and a trail of dribble,
Leading directly to an economy-sized sack of holiday kibble.
The dog food had spilled out, and it covered the floor,
A large hole, it seemed, in the bag had been torn.
"Whoever did this foul deed, oh they will certainly pay,
they won't live to see one more Christmas Day."
When what to his wandering eyes should appear,
But a trail leading back to Santa's pen of reindeer!
Off to the pen, stormed the angry Saint Nick.
Which one of those ruminants made Santa so ticked?
In his jolly old hands, Santa wielded a shottie
To punish the Reindeer who had been so naughty.
'Twas a Remington shotgun, model eight-seventy
Into the sky Santa fired, as he roared like a banshee.
The sleeping reindeer awoke with a start
As Santa threatened to blast thier wee skulls apart.
Faster than jackrabbits, they tried to escape Santa's aim
And he cussed, and shouted, and call'd them by name:
"Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen,
"Now Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen;
I know one of you broke the garage door that needs fixin'
And ate up the dog food; in your tummy it's sittin'.
But this is the final straw, you broke Santa's back!
Whichever one of you did this will have to be whacked.
But I wasn't there, I didn't see the whole thing myself.
Just know, whoever did this stole from the WRONG elf.
I have a confession to make, I've never been jolly,
I don't care to deck the halls with boughs of frickin' holly.
I won't be donning any of that festive gay apparel,
And if I hear even one more sappy, annoying Christmas carol
You will all taste bloody death from the barrel
of this shotgun I call Thor, so sing at your peril.
There will be no presents this year, Santa's sleigh is retired
And those sickeningly sweet little elves have been fired
You should know the sole reason I don't turn you to venison
is because I hate the flavor, you furry wastes of skin.
But if you don't figure out which of you ate the kibble,
I'll fix this problem in a manner quick and simple.
You will vote who among you will be sent to their death
Or each and every one of you will draw your final breath.
And I will ruin your holidays worse than any lame grinch,
If ever one of you reindeer should dare vote "No Lynch".
If after the punishment; the murderous deed done,
More kibble should go missing, I promise you this gun
Will splatter more blood, and just so you know
You will continue to vote, 'till the culprit's guts meet the snow."
The reindeer spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
they began to accuse one another of being the greedy jerk
Who stole from Scrumptious, Santa's German Shepherd pooch
Whose doggie kibble had been eaten, while Santa drank hooch.
Santa's speech had finished, so he sniffed his nose
Then he coughed up some phlegm, and up the stairs Santa rose.
He sprawled on his couch, and gave a cheerful whistle,
As Couture's feet met his opponent's face like a missile
But I heard Santa exclaim, as he drank whiskey sours,
"Vote now for who dies! you have Twenty-Four hours!"
'Twas the first night afterward, and Santa was still fuming
Even after dozens of shots that he'd been consuming
All through the night he'd heard Mrs. Claus whine
"Why don't you fix the garage, surely now's a good time?"
Well Santa Claus slept on the couch that same night
After he and Mrs. Claus had a rather large fight
There were broken bottles smashed all over the floor
Santa broke Christmas tree ornaments and called her a whore
She broke the television set and loudly replied
"Get in shape, you big whale, you're a continent wide!"
To which Santa said "See my butt? Pucker up and kiss 'er
And by the way, last week I slept with your sister!"
To which Mrs. Claus replied "Oh Santa, that's fine,
After all, last night I had my way with a whole chorus line.
But there's more, 'saint' Nick, you fat bearded creep,
with your favorite NFL team, I just happened to sleep
and when it was all done, they started to prance
and they performed their famous touchdown celebration dance.
You know, the one that they do when they score a goal?
Well you won't be scoring anytime soon, you nasty old troll!"
"Fine by me," Santa said, his face turning red,
"Even the goat knows how to give better affection."
Which doesn't quite rhyme, but you know what I meant.
Several warning points later, their fight was all done.
Both of them went to bed thinking that they had won,
But Santa Claus ponder'd, and he ponder'd some more,
his head filled with images of blood, guts, and gore.
He decided that the first reindeer that would die
wouldn't go easy, like with a bullet through the eye,
Oh no, Santa thought, something much more demonic
per'aps the execution should be a bit more ironic
What could serve a more fitting reminder
not to steal the dog food... perhaps a meat grinder
Yes, that would be the way; they would go in alive
And he'd grind and he'd grind, while they tried to survive
They'd go in hoof first, and it would take a while
He'd grind them with glee, a "ho ho" and a smile.
They'd scream as he'd grind, until they became meat
For Santa's dog Scrumptious: a sausage link treat!
And all the other reindeer would watch this in terror
Surely they would realize their rather grave error
And confess to breaking down Santa's garage door
Before they faced Santa's wrath like never before.
When he woke in the morning, he counted the votes,
Then he grabbed fat little Prancer while he was eating some oats
"Still hungry?" snorted Santa, and he held him by the ears,
and dragged him to the grinder, in front of his peers
Into the top of the grinding machine Prancer went.
There would be enough meat from his carcass 'till Lent!
The reindeer reacted naturally, with shock and surprise,
and white-knuckled terror as they witnessed Prancer's demise.
Over the sounds of the screams of bloodcurdling pain
Santa was laughing, he'd gone clearly insane.
When after this sadistic execution was complete
Santa whistled for Scrumptious "Here boy, come and eat!"
To add one more twist to Prancer's violent end,
All the other reindeer watched as the dog ate their friend.
As they began to vomit from this sickening sight,
Santa said "Merry Christmas, you vermin, I hope you sleep tight!"
The next day however, a few hours after dawn
Jolly Saint Nick saw that more kibble was gone
And again there were tracks leading back to the pen
So the reindeer would be forced to vote once again.
"Twas the second night since the theiving, and Santa went looney
Have you seen The Langoliers? Yeah, kinda like Craig Toomey.
All day long Santa's missus was on his case,
And he was getting tired of seeing her grumpy old face.
"Do the dishes! Shovel the driveway! Polish the frickin' sleigh!"
Santa replied, "Shush, you wench! Go gargle in the bidet!"
But soon Santa dashed, Santa dashed to his sled,
as Mrs. Claus threw ornaments and knives at his head.
As he sat in his sleigh, "ho, ho, ho..." hissed the elf;
"I heard that!" yelled his wife, "go jingle yourself!"
Santa sat, bells freezing off, as he cracked open a beer
Wondering just when, in his life, that he married a steer.
A cow, rather, whose udders had long dried;
A heifer with wrinkles and pimples and boils on her hide.
A hoofed mammal, Nick huffed, his thoughts turning snide,
A large cud-chewing bovine; a wicked wretch of a bride.
"Why didn't I marry that tooth fairy?" Santa started to ponder,
Then he checked the tally; it was time to kill Death is yonder.
"But how to kill him?" Santa wondered, and he wondered some more,
how to turn into a delight what might have once been a chore.
"I think that it is time to make the furry ones cry
I think I'll light them up, just like the Fourth of July!
Grinding them up into hamburger was surely fun,
But an explosion or two just couldn't be outdone!
In their pen, those reindeer will wish they'd have stayed,
To their reindeer gods they will wish to have prayed,
They will rue the day their master was betrayed,
When they see Santa's Naughty Kid Annihilating, Rocket-propelled Grenade!
The launcher was thirty seven point four inches in length
The warhead was of terrifying, unstoppable strength
It had a maximum range of one thousand yards
On its length there was written "Santa sends his regards"
Santa had shown it to his nephew, and to his nieces
And now he'd show everyone how to blow caribou to pieces
It could incinerate tanks, and all manner of personnel
It could surely send naughty reindeer directly to hell
It could blow their meat clean off of their bones
It could darn all their souls in fire and brimstone
Santa's eyes twinkled and he laughed with delight
As he pictured reindeer dancing, their bodies alight
The furry ones fleeing, and screaming with fright
Burning in sheer agony... oh boy, what a sight!
So he grabbed his RPG, and he strapped it on tight
And he went off to end a reindeer's life that same night.
He kicked open the pen, and he roared a loud roar
He said "You'd better flee, I must politely implore
Because very soon there will be carnage galore
And you'll taste Santa's wrath like never before!"
So Dasher went dashing, and Comet went streaking
And down Donner's legs, much urine was leaking
As Vixen creeped away, tiptoe-ing and sneaking,
Whilst Blitzen was too busy, blubbering, and shrieking.
Cupid tried in vain to escape, but he was just freaking
Because Saint Nick found the reindeer that he was now seeking
O'er the fence Cupid bounded; he scampered off and took flight
But Santa calmly set the furry reindeer in his sights
He aimed directly at the reindeer's tail so white
And incinerated lil' Cupid with a massive fireball that night.
All across the North Pole, in the fresh fallen snow
There were scattered Cupid's ashes, still faintly aglow.
Santa's evil deed done, he went back to his sleigh,
His boar of a wife several hundred yards away,
He slept in his sled until the night became day
And when he awoke, he saw with dismay
That during the night more kibble went away
At least one of the remaining reindeer would soon pay
Today they would vote, and they would debate
Which reindeer among them would suffer poor Cupid's fate.
'Twas the third night since the burglary, all quiet in the house
Until Mrs. Claus started yelling "Get off your butt, you old louse!
There's walls that need painting, and dishes that need scrubbing,
And you'd better do a darn good job when you do the snow shoveling
I can't get out the driveway, and I'm getting split ends,
because I can't go to the book club with all my book club friends.
And you know something else, you need to get thinner
Tonight, all you're having is broccoli for dinner."
So Santa huffed and he puffed and he said with a smile
"Why don't you kindly get off my back for a while?
I'm retired, and still tired from managing hundreds of elves
And spending my danged Christmas filling department store shelves
With toys for ungrateful, spoiled, whiny, snot-nosed little brats
And I'm tired of these constant, un-Christmas-y spats
And I'm tired of hearing your shrill old voice
I'd shut you up good and tight if given the choice
So begone, devil woman, just leave me be
Just leave me alone to watch my brand new TV."
And so Mrs. Claus said "DO IT OR YOU'RE DEAD!!!"
And so Mr. Claus said "Bah, go soak your head."
And so Mrs. Claus said "I'LL SMACK YOU SILLY!!!"
And so Mr. Claus said nothing as he ate some piping-hot chili.
And so Mrs. Claus said "I'M WARNING YOU, NOW GO!!!"
And so Mr. Claus just gave a jolly "Ho ho ho... NO!"
And so Mrs. Claus went to the tree, and started gathering candy canes
And so Mr. Claus said "What are you doing, are you insane?"
And so Mrs. Claus said "It seems that way, you big jerk!
Now I'll warn you one last time, you'd better (expletive) get to work!"
And Mr. Claus said "Make me" and so Mrs. Claus obliged
She started whipping candy canes at his jolly old hide.
Santa said "Ow, that hurts you old hag, so you'd better run,
I'll settle this once and for all with my trusty gun!"
And Mrs. Claus just laughed and laughed at Saint Nick,
But Santa Claus looked red-faced and quite ticked,
And Mrs. Claus knew that this time he weren't joking
Because of the way his jolly old ears were smoking
And he put down his pipe and he put down his beer
And he finally got up off his fat and lazy old rear
And he grabbed for his shotgun and gave a raspy "HEEE-HAW!!!"
Mrs. Claus was frightened by the look in his eyes that she saw.
"I think this time he's serious" she said as she fled
As Santa Claus started bashing the walls with his head
He was all fired up, and he was looking quite steamed,
And he fired that shotgun while Mrs. Claus screamed
Oh don't worry folks, Santa Claus surely missed her,
But he took out all the frankincense and myrrh
And he took one look at the tree, and with a laugh
He blew the carefully-arranged decoration in half
He shot up the boxes, he shot up the toys
He made an awful mess and a cacophony of noise
He shot up her new sweater, he shot up her new dresser,
He got revenge on his foul wife, the oppressor
He went into the bedroom and shot up her new vanity
In one final act of repetitive nagging-induced insanity
He fired and he fired and he shot up the whole house
Until not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Mrs. Claus had locked herself in the bath, quite afraid
She wouldn't come out and see the big mess Santa made
And Santa, who ran out of ammo, then decided
To grab some whiskey and drink until his temper subsided
So he went to the cabinets, and he went to the shelves
And he went through the bottles until he found some Jack Daniel's
And then with a huff, through the front door, he went away
And he took his pipe and his whiskey all the way to his sleigh
Where he could smoke and drink in peace, for the rest of the day
So then he opened up the whiskey, and enjoyed it's bouquet
He poured himself a glass, and set it near the throttle,
then with a shrug, he simply downed the whole bottle
And then he puffed and he puffed on his pipe
And he was quite pleased not to hear his annoying wife gripe
But then he remembered, he needed to take care of some business
He needed to punish the reindeer that had destroyed his Christmas
So he sat and he pondered how he would get his revenge,
But he decided he'd think much better after another drinking binge
So he downed all the whiskey, and he drank all the schnapps
And he downed shot after shot until Santa collapsed
When he came to, he was not in his right mind
And his anger and his hate and his drunken state combined
Until he came up with a fun way to make those ungrateful piggies squeal
He'd chase after them all with his souped-up snowmobile
And atop of his saddle in his great horseless sleigh
He'd be wielding a chainsaw, while he was chasing his prey
A look of pure evil came to his murderous eyes
When he thought of cutting those reindeer down to size
So he got up with a huff, he went off with a bound
And into the garage he went, until was heard a sound;
The gasoline engine in the vehicle was heard 'round the pole
And Santa Claus laughed, from the darkest part of his soul
He'd cut them in half, he'd slice off their jaw
He'd mutilate their bodies with his evil saw
And so he took off, and soon he took flight
As his 'mobile flew over snow drifts in the night
And he crashed his 'mobile straight into the pen
And threatened to murder one of the reindeer once again
He barked to them all "OKAY, WHAT'S THE TALLY???"
And so it was Centurion1, in this poem's finale
Donner, the reindeer, ran off in such fright
When he saw Santa Claus sawing up everything in sight
But then, poor Donner, he was trapped in a corner
And soon, very soon, he'd be meeting the coroner
In very small pieces, he'd be scattered to and fro
Chunks of flesh would soon end up in the snow
And Santa roared, his sick evil laugh
As he sawed poor Donner clean in half
And he buzzed off his legs, and he buzzed off his hooves
To punish the poor creature for gobbling up Scrumptious' food
He hacked him to bits, and mangled his corpse
The papers would call Santa the "Terror of the North"
But during this, Donner's nose popped off and fell in the snow
And beneath the false nose, Santa saw a faint glow
It seems this wasn't Donner at all, that much was made clear
It seemed it was Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Alas, poor Rudolph, his bright nose starting to fade
Would be placed in the earth until he decayed
And it seemed that Santa had killed one of the deer
That had been making poor Scrumptious' food disappear
Rudolph, it seemed, had bore a disguise
So that he'd be able to blend in and hide
Among the other reindeer, while the rest of them died
But that night in the cold, in the reindeer's old pen
Rudolph's larcenous kibble-eating career met its end
The next morning, however, yet more kibble was gone
And so they'd vote once again,
and lynch another guilty fawn
'Twas the fourth night of bloodshed, since Santa had snapped
And Kris Kringle had woken from a long winter's nap
He yawned from his sleigh, parked out in the snow
And listened to the Saints football game on the radio
He's a Saints fan of course, he is a saint after all
Santa was hammered before they even kicked the ball
He cheered for Thomas as he rushed for a score
And he cheered for Drew Brees as he threw for one more
He gobbled some pork rinds as he cheered a Hartley field goal
And he laughed as the Bucs fell deep in the hole
Just before the half, the Bucs broke their streak
But at 3 to 17, for their team it looked bleak
Santa roared with glee and pounded his chest
Everyone knew, Santa thought, that the Saints were the best.
"Who were these Buccaneers, who do they think they are?
Don't mess with the Saints" Santa said, as he lit a cigar.
After halftime was over, Santa was fully tanked
He cheered some more, as the Bucs were getting spanked.
After a bore of a third quarter, and no change in the score,
Another victory cognac, Santa started to pour.
Just then the Bucs scored after a 23 yard gain
But Santa was still confident that the Saints would win the game
But when Spurlock returned the punt for 77 yards
Santa started tearing up all of his Christmas cards
He was steamed that his team would blow a 17-point lead
But as the game went to overtime, he still wouldn't concede
When the Bucs won the toss, he was grinding his teeth
He cheered the Saints defense, one of the league's most elite
but Santa blubbered and he sputtered and he cussed and he swore
When the Bucs offense drove into range for a long-distance score
His face had turned red and his throat was choked tight
When Barth's kick went 47 yards and split the uprights
"How could this be?" Santa hissed, "Just how could this be?"
And Saint Nick was quite pissed. "How could you lose to that team?"
And Saint Nick, with his Santa-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could this be so?
They lost to the Bucs! They blew a huge lead!
In the second half, they frickin' shut out Drew Brees!"
And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then Santa thought of something he hadn't before
"The Saints lost," he thought, "To a team two and twelve."
Such a thought made Santa grab his gun from the shelf
And what happened then...? Well in the North Pole they say
That Kris Kringle's cold evil heart shrank three sizes that day
In a minute his brain just didn't feel quite right
He nearly had a heart attack, in the bright morning light
His blood started to boil, until vessels burst in his head
And he... HE HIMSELF... Would murder every Bucs fan dead!
But before this would happen, Santa would go berserk
And he would slaughter a reindeer, maybe this time, the jerk
Who ate up the dog food, and like a thief in the night
Would sneak back to the pen, while the others slept tight.
So he thought up a plan, and he thought it up quick,
He phoned up his drinking buddy, a close friend of Saint Nick's,
Someone Santa knew, who would think killing reindeer was funny,
Someone as cold-hearted as Santa himself, that crazed Easter Bunny.
And Santa yelled through the phone, "Time to go hunting, buddy Frank!
Let's kill us some reindeer, and do it with a bloody tank!"
And the crazed white rabbit hopped on over with glee,
The two of them driving a tank was quite a sight to see
They drove past the polar bears, they drove over the ice,
And they didn't give a crap who was naughty or nice
Santa had just one thing on his crazy old mind,
He'd flatten everything in sight, as his rage made him blind.
He drove the tank all the way to their pen
And asked through a loudspeaker "What's the tally, again?"
A nervous reindeer held up a sign, as the others started to run,
It showed "Blackadder" had been lynched, three votes to one.
So Santa shouted "HEY DANCER! GET YOUR MANGY BUTT OUT HERE!"
And Dancer watched in horror as Santa's tank came near.
And so Dancer danced off, and he sprinted off in a flash,
As the tank drove through their pen with an enormous crash
Dancer prayed for a miracle, as he tried to dash away
With Santa close behind, in an unholy armored sleigh
And then Santa smiled; his sadistic glee he did show,
As a blast from the main gun sent Dancer into the snow.
O'er the hills the tank went, treads lifting up off the ground,
Until the thing came crashing down, with an earth-shattering sound
And all that was left of Dancer, indeed all that remained
of his corpse that was flattened, was a big bloody stain.
The Easter Bunny and Kris Kringle drank in celebration
of their unholy deed, which guaranteed them damnation
But what sanity was left, in Santa's twisted mind
Was all gone the next morning, when he happened to find
That yet more kibble had gone missing from the big kibble sack.
So one last time, the poor reindeer, would have to vote who'd get whacked.
And if they did not find the true culprit today,
Santa warned, one last time, that they would ALL truly pay.
Twas the fifth night of mischief, since the slayings began
And one of the reindeer had hatched a master plan
One that would end Nick's murderous spree
And end in a wond'rous New Year reindeer jamboree
"It is time to fight back" the head reindeer said
"If we don't, my companions, we'll all end up dead."
The others nodded, and they were in agreement
They would all put an end to their brethren's pain and torment.
While Santa was busy, arguing with his wife
One of the reindeer confiscated a knife
Another, a Smith and Wesson model 19
The third, a flamethrower, to cause damage extreme
They plotted their escape from their broken pen
Never to return to that same hellish den
They went out to the frozen lake near the pole
And hid nearby with the weapons they stole.
One of them, however, started tapping the ice
With his hooves rather sharply, in a manner most precise.
And they waited for a while to spring their clever trap
After Santa awoke from his post-domestic-fight nap
He went out to the garage to grab his shotgun
And counted the votes up to see who had won
He went to the pen to slay the crooked deer,
But he saw that the three of them had disappeared!
So he followed their tracks, in the fresh fallen snow
Down to the valley, near the frozen lake below
He followed their tracks to the edge of the lake
And that's when Santa made his fatal mistake
He stepped onto the ice, and began to cross
As the reindeer prepared to ambush their boss
When he was almost across, they sprung their trap
They came from three sides, and then closed the gap
They charged at Santa, their weapons held high
Confident these were Santa's last moments alive
At this point, however, the reindeer felt dumb
They couldn't wield them properly; for they had no thumbs
And so they watched as the evil old Saint Nick
Pumped his deadly shotgun with a chilling "click click"
But fortune was smiling on the poor animals that night
As Santa lost his balance and slipped on the ice
The reindeer charged, their antlers angled low
And pounded Saint Nicholas into the snow
They bashed and they bucked and they bloodied him up
They kicked his teeth in, and his skull was concussed
They rammed him, and shook him, like a bowl full of jelly
They smashed him quite hard in his fat hairy belly
He was knocked back, and slipped once again on the ice
And it was here that Santa paid the ultimate price
He slid to the middle of the frozen lake
Where the ice, already cracked, started to break
The reindeer watched with great expectation
They trotted a bit closer, in joyful anticipation
As beneath evil Claus, the ice split and gave way
(He must have eaten too much Chinese buffet)
Into the icy drink evil Santa Claus splashed
The only thing left of him was his sash.
The reindeer, especially Vixen, breathed a sigh of relief
As he was today's vote-winning suspected thief
"You guys, I promise you, I didn't take the treats
Just the thought of angering Santa made me wet the sheets"
And Comet nodded, in agreement with Vixen
And Dasher observed "Hey, what happened to Blitzen?"
That's right, they remembered, there were nine reindeer
Just where did Blitzen and Donner disappear?
Well naughty Rudolph shipped Donner to Abu Dhabi
And took on his identity, to aid his thieving hobby
But that left Blitzen still unaccounted for
There were only three left, shouldn't there be more?
Too late, it dawned on them, another reindeer was missing
His bloody corpse in a box, all wrapped up with a string
He was shipped to Nick as a morbid Christmas present
By a murderous reindeer, with most malicious intent
The murderer was among them, but which one, and why?
Weren't they all united, as brothers, to make Santa die?
It seems that among them, there was a traitor so shrewd
as to let his brothers all die, just to steal some food
The three remaining deer looked at each other with suspicion
Which one that remained was of evil disposition?
Dasher shook his head and said "It wasn't me,
I'm innocent guys, this I will guarantee"
And Comet spoke up, in a manner most sincere
"I'd never, ever, harm a fellow reindeer"
So they looked at Vixen with accusatory eyes
And said "You killed Blitzen... all traitors must die"
They both charged at Vixen and rammed his furry hide
And across the lake ice, he began to slide
Into the icy water, where he would sink down
Because he couldn't swim, and thusly, he drowned.
So Dasher and Comet nodded at one another,
Confident they had lynched their murderous brother
And Comet laughed, as Dasher jumped on the ice
Their nightmare now over, their future sure looked nice.
Comet warned Dasher to please be cautious;
The ice was still thin, and those jumps made him nauseous.
But Dasher looked at him with a cold, icy stare
And snorted, and tapped his hoof on the ice, with a glare.
The ice underneath them started to crack
And Comet lost his footing and fell on his back
Dasher dashed off to the safety of the snow
As the integrity of the ice sheet started to go
With a shout, Dasher shouted "You can die like Vixen,
THAT ONE WAS FOR RUDOLPH, AND MY NAME IS BLITZEN!"
And with a laugh, an evil laugh, Blitzen blitzed off
No longer would he eat like a pig at a trough
He could dine all day on sweet Christmas kibble
He'd never have to argue for his fair share, nor quibble
Blitzen could eat and eat until he had his fill
It was his greedy appetite that caused him to kill
He and Rudolph were finally fed up with the swill
It was time to send Scrumptious to an old puppy mill
And dispose of Mrs. Claus, with her voice so shrill
He'd slash her to bits, and make her blood spill
(It seems that murdering gave Blitzen a cheap thrill)
He'd bury her carcass up on the old snowy hill
And inherit the workshop, as it said in Santa's will
Which of course, Blitzen forged, with his clever forging ways
And he'd retire, fat and rich, happy for the rest of his days.
Santa could find no respite from his shrew of a spouse.
He watched Ultimate Fighting on the TV that blared
sounds of violence loud enough for the hearing impaired.
His lips glistened with the grease of a charred black boar,
As he popped several Vicodin, while cheering Randy Couture.
"Choke him! Pound him! Turn his face bloody red!
Make Santa proud, put your fist through his head!"
Mrs. Claus stomped in, and she started to growl,
"TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE NOW!!!!" yelled Mrs. Claus with a scowl.
Santa grabbed his beer bottle and tossed it at her face.
"Do it yourself, you old nag, and kindly get off my case!"
When out in the garage there sounded a crash
"Dangit, what now?" spat Nick, his teeth starting to gnash.
Away to the cellar he stormed, looking quite pissed
He swore that he'd beat whoever it was with his fists.
He opened the door and switched on the light
The scene Santa saw just couldn't be right...
The garage door was busted; smashed right in, it seemed,
With red-faced fury, Saint Nicholas screamed:
"Who could have done this, what hoodlum, what vandal?"
But what Santa saw next made him fly off the handle.
Hoof prints in the snow, and a trail of dribble,
Leading directly to an economy-sized sack of holiday kibble.
The dog food had spilled out, and it covered the floor,
A large hole, it seemed, in the bag had been torn.
"Whoever did this foul deed, oh they will certainly pay,
they won't live to see one more Christmas Day."
When what to his wandering eyes should appear,
But a trail leading back to Santa's pen of reindeer!
Off to the pen, stormed the angry Saint Nick.
Which one of those ruminants made Santa so ticked?
In his jolly old hands, Santa wielded a shottie
To punish the Reindeer who had been so naughty.
'Twas a Remington shotgun, model eight-seventy
Into the sky Santa fired, as he roared like a banshee.
The sleeping reindeer awoke with a start
As Santa threatened to blast thier wee skulls apart.
Faster than jackrabbits, they tried to escape Santa's aim
And he cussed, and shouted, and call'd them by name:
"Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen,
"Now Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen;
I know one of you broke the garage door that needs fixin'
And ate up the dog food; in your tummy it's sittin'.
But this is the final straw, you broke Santa's back!
Whichever one of you did this will have to be whacked.
But I wasn't there, I didn't see the whole thing myself.
Just know, whoever did this stole from the WRONG elf.
I have a confession to make, I've never been jolly,
I don't care to deck the halls with boughs of frickin' holly.
I won't be donning any of that festive gay apparel,
And if I hear even one more sappy, annoying Christmas carol
You will all taste bloody death from the barrel
of this shotgun I call Thor, so sing at your peril.
There will be no presents this year, Santa's sleigh is retired
And those sickeningly sweet little elves have been fired
You should know the sole reason I don't turn you to venison
is because I hate the flavor, you furry wastes of skin.
But if you don't figure out which of you ate the kibble,
I'll fix this problem in a manner quick and simple.
You will vote who among you will be sent to their death
Or each and every one of you will draw your final breath.
And I will ruin your holidays worse than any lame grinch,
If ever one of you reindeer should dare vote "No Lynch".
If after the punishment; the murderous deed done,
More kibble should go missing, I promise you this gun
Will splatter more blood, and just so you know
You will continue to vote, 'till the culprit's guts meet the snow."
The reindeer spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
they began to accuse one another of being the greedy jerk
Who stole from Scrumptious, Santa's German Shepherd pooch
Whose doggie kibble had been eaten, while Santa drank hooch.
Santa's speech had finished, so he sniffed his nose
Then he coughed up some phlegm, and up the stairs Santa rose.
He sprawled on his couch, and gave a cheerful whistle,
As Couture's feet met his opponent's face like a missile
But I heard Santa exclaim, as he drank whiskey sours,
"Vote now for who dies! you have Twenty-Four hours!"
'Twas the first night afterward, and Santa was still fuming
Even after dozens of shots that he'd been consuming
All through the night he'd heard Mrs. Claus whine
"Why don't you fix the garage, surely now's a good time?"
Well Santa Claus slept on the couch that same night
After he and Mrs. Claus had a rather large fight
There were broken bottles smashed all over the floor
Santa broke Christmas tree ornaments and called her a whore
She broke the television set and loudly replied
"Get in shape, you big whale, you're a continent wide!"
To which Santa said "See my butt? Pucker up and kiss 'er
And by the way, last week I slept with your sister!"
To which Mrs. Claus replied "Oh Santa, that's fine,
After all, last night I had my way with a whole chorus line.
But there's more, 'saint' Nick, you fat bearded creep,
with your favorite NFL team, I just happened to sleep
and when it was all done, they started to prance
and they performed their famous touchdown celebration dance.
You know, the one that they do when they score a goal?
Well you won't be scoring anytime soon, you nasty old troll!"
"Fine by me," Santa said, his face turning red,
"Even the goat knows how to give better affection."
Which doesn't quite rhyme, but you know what I meant.
Several warning points later, their fight was all done.
Both of them went to bed thinking that they had won,
But Santa Claus ponder'd, and he ponder'd some more,
his head filled with images of blood, guts, and gore.
He decided that the first reindeer that would die
wouldn't go easy, like with a bullet through the eye,
Oh no, Santa thought, something much more demonic
per'aps the execution should be a bit more ironic
What could serve a more fitting reminder
not to steal the dog food... perhaps a meat grinder
Yes, that would be the way; they would go in alive
And he'd grind and he'd grind, while they tried to survive
They'd go in hoof first, and it would take a while
He'd grind them with glee, a "ho ho" and a smile.
They'd scream as he'd grind, until they became meat
For Santa's dog Scrumptious: a sausage link treat!
And all the other reindeer would watch this in terror
Surely they would realize their rather grave error
And confess to breaking down Santa's garage door
Before they faced Santa's wrath like never before.
When he woke in the morning, he counted the votes,
Then he grabbed fat little Prancer while he was eating some oats
"Still hungry?" snorted Santa, and he held him by the ears,
and dragged him to the grinder, in front of his peers
Into the top of the grinding machine Prancer went.
There would be enough meat from his carcass 'till Lent!
The reindeer reacted naturally, with shock and surprise,
and white-knuckled terror as they witnessed Prancer's demise.
Over the sounds of the screams of bloodcurdling pain
Santa was laughing, he'd gone clearly insane.
When after this sadistic execution was complete
Santa whistled for Scrumptious "Here boy, come and eat!"
To add one more twist to Prancer's violent end,
All the other reindeer watched as the dog ate their friend.
As they began to vomit from this sickening sight,
Santa said "Merry Christmas, you vermin, I hope you sleep tight!"
The next day however, a few hours after dawn
Jolly Saint Nick saw that more kibble was gone
And again there were tracks leading back to the pen
So the reindeer would be forced to vote once again.
"Twas the second night since the theiving, and Santa went looney
Have you seen The Langoliers? Yeah, kinda like Craig Toomey.
All day long Santa's missus was on his case,
And he was getting tired of seeing her grumpy old face.
"Do the dishes! Shovel the driveway! Polish the frickin' sleigh!"
Santa replied, "Shush, you wench! Go gargle in the bidet!"
But soon Santa dashed, Santa dashed to his sled,
as Mrs. Claus threw ornaments and knives at his head.
As he sat in his sleigh, "ho, ho, ho..." hissed the elf;
"I heard that!" yelled his wife, "go jingle yourself!"
Santa sat, bells freezing off, as he cracked open a beer
Wondering just when, in his life, that he married a steer.
A cow, rather, whose udders had long dried;
A heifer with wrinkles and pimples and boils on her hide.
A hoofed mammal, Nick huffed, his thoughts turning snide,
A large cud-chewing bovine; a wicked wretch of a bride.
"Why didn't I marry that tooth fairy?" Santa started to ponder,
Then he checked the tally; it was time to kill Death is yonder.
"But how to kill him?" Santa wondered, and he wondered some more,
how to turn into a delight what might have once been a chore.
"I think that it is time to make the furry ones cry
I think I'll light them up, just like the Fourth of July!
Grinding them up into hamburger was surely fun,
But an explosion or two just couldn't be outdone!
In their pen, those reindeer will wish they'd have stayed,
To their reindeer gods they will wish to have prayed,
They will rue the day their master was betrayed,
When they see Santa's Naughty Kid Annihilating, Rocket-propelled Grenade!
The launcher was thirty seven point four inches in length
The warhead was of terrifying, unstoppable strength
It had a maximum range of one thousand yards
On its length there was written "Santa sends his regards"
Santa had shown it to his nephew, and to his nieces
And now he'd show everyone how to blow caribou to pieces
It could incinerate tanks, and all manner of personnel
It could surely send naughty reindeer directly to hell
It could blow their meat clean off of their bones
It could darn all their souls in fire and brimstone
Santa's eyes twinkled and he laughed with delight
As he pictured reindeer dancing, their bodies alight
The furry ones fleeing, and screaming with fright
Burning in sheer agony... oh boy, what a sight!
So he grabbed his RPG, and he strapped it on tight
And he went off to end a reindeer's life that same night.
He kicked open the pen, and he roared a loud roar
He said "You'd better flee, I must politely implore
Because very soon there will be carnage galore
And you'll taste Santa's wrath like never before!"
So Dasher went dashing, and Comet went streaking
And down Donner's legs, much urine was leaking
As Vixen creeped away, tiptoe-ing and sneaking,
Whilst Blitzen was too busy, blubbering, and shrieking.
Cupid tried in vain to escape, but he was just freaking
Because Saint Nick found the reindeer that he was now seeking
O'er the fence Cupid bounded; he scampered off and took flight
But Santa calmly set the furry reindeer in his sights
He aimed directly at the reindeer's tail so white
And incinerated lil' Cupid with a massive fireball that night.
All across the North Pole, in the fresh fallen snow
There were scattered Cupid's ashes, still faintly aglow.
Santa's evil deed done, he went back to his sleigh,
His boar of a wife several hundred yards away,
He slept in his sled until the night became day
And when he awoke, he saw with dismay
That during the night more kibble went away
At least one of the remaining reindeer would soon pay
Today they would vote, and they would debate
Which reindeer among them would suffer poor Cupid's fate.
'Twas the third night since the burglary, all quiet in the house
Until Mrs. Claus started yelling "Get off your butt, you old louse!
There's walls that need painting, and dishes that need scrubbing,
And you'd better do a darn good job when you do the snow shoveling
I can't get out the driveway, and I'm getting split ends,
because I can't go to the book club with all my book club friends.
And you know something else, you need to get thinner
Tonight, all you're having is broccoli for dinner."
So Santa huffed and he puffed and he said with a smile
"Why don't you kindly get off my back for a while?
I'm retired, and still tired from managing hundreds of elves
And spending my danged Christmas filling department store shelves
With toys for ungrateful, spoiled, whiny, snot-nosed little brats
And I'm tired of these constant, un-Christmas-y spats
And I'm tired of hearing your shrill old voice
I'd shut you up good and tight if given the choice
So begone, devil woman, just leave me be
Just leave me alone to watch my brand new TV."
And so Mrs. Claus said "DO IT OR YOU'RE DEAD!!!"
And so Mr. Claus said "Bah, go soak your head."
And so Mrs. Claus said "I'LL SMACK YOU SILLY!!!"
And so Mr. Claus said nothing as he ate some piping-hot chili.
And so Mrs. Claus said "I'M WARNING YOU, NOW GO!!!"
And so Mr. Claus just gave a jolly "Ho ho ho... NO!"
And so Mrs. Claus went to the tree, and started gathering candy canes
And so Mr. Claus said "What are you doing, are you insane?"
And so Mrs. Claus said "It seems that way, you big jerk!
Now I'll warn you one last time, you'd better (expletive) get to work!"
And Mr. Claus said "Make me" and so Mrs. Claus obliged
She started whipping candy canes at his jolly old hide.
Santa said "Ow, that hurts you old hag, so you'd better run,
I'll settle this once and for all with my trusty gun!"
And Mrs. Claus just laughed and laughed at Saint Nick,
But Santa Claus looked red-faced and quite ticked,
And Mrs. Claus knew that this time he weren't joking
Because of the way his jolly old ears were smoking
And he put down his pipe and he put down his beer
And he finally got up off his fat and lazy old rear
And he grabbed for his shotgun and gave a raspy "HEEE-HAW!!!"
Mrs. Claus was frightened by the look in his eyes that she saw.
"I think this time he's serious" she said as she fled
As Santa Claus started bashing the walls with his head
He was all fired up, and he was looking quite steamed,
And he fired that shotgun while Mrs. Claus screamed
Oh don't worry folks, Santa Claus surely missed her,
But he took out all the frankincense and myrrh
And he took one look at the tree, and with a laugh
He blew the carefully-arranged decoration in half
He shot up the boxes, he shot up the toys
He made an awful mess and a cacophony of noise
He shot up her new sweater, he shot up her new dresser,
He got revenge on his foul wife, the oppressor
He went into the bedroom and shot up her new vanity
In one final act of repetitive nagging-induced insanity
He fired and he fired and he shot up the whole house
Until not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Mrs. Claus had locked herself in the bath, quite afraid
She wouldn't come out and see the big mess Santa made
And Santa, who ran out of ammo, then decided
To grab some whiskey and drink until his temper subsided
So he went to the cabinets, and he went to the shelves
And he went through the bottles until he found some Jack Daniel's
And then with a huff, through the front door, he went away
And he took his pipe and his whiskey all the way to his sleigh
Where he could smoke and drink in peace, for the rest of the day
So then he opened up the whiskey, and enjoyed it's bouquet
He poured himself a glass, and set it near the throttle,
then with a shrug, he simply downed the whole bottle
And then he puffed and he puffed on his pipe
And he was quite pleased not to hear his annoying wife gripe
But then he remembered, he needed to take care of some business
He needed to punish the reindeer that had destroyed his Christmas
So he sat and he pondered how he would get his revenge,
But he decided he'd think much better after another drinking binge
So he downed all the whiskey, and he drank all the schnapps
And he downed shot after shot until Santa collapsed
When he came to, he was not in his right mind
And his anger and his hate and his drunken state combined
Until he came up with a fun way to make those ungrateful piggies squeal
He'd chase after them all with his souped-up snowmobile
And atop of his saddle in his great horseless sleigh
He'd be wielding a chainsaw, while he was chasing his prey
A look of pure evil came to his murderous eyes
When he thought of cutting those reindeer down to size
So he got up with a huff, he went off with a bound
And into the garage he went, until was heard a sound;
The gasoline engine in the vehicle was heard 'round the pole
And Santa Claus laughed, from the darkest part of his soul
He'd cut them in half, he'd slice off their jaw
He'd mutilate their bodies with his evil saw
And so he took off, and soon he took flight
As his 'mobile flew over snow drifts in the night
And he crashed his 'mobile straight into the pen
And threatened to murder one of the reindeer once again
He barked to them all "OKAY, WHAT'S THE TALLY???"
And so it was Centurion1, in this poem's finale
Donner, the reindeer, ran off in such fright
When he saw Santa Claus sawing up everything in sight
But then, poor Donner, he was trapped in a corner
And soon, very soon, he'd be meeting the coroner
In very small pieces, he'd be scattered to and fro
Chunks of flesh would soon end up in the snow
And Santa roared, his sick evil laugh
As he sawed poor Donner clean in half
And he buzzed off his legs, and he buzzed off his hooves
To punish the poor creature for gobbling up Scrumptious' food
He hacked him to bits, and mangled his corpse
The papers would call Santa the "Terror of the North"
But during this, Donner's nose popped off and fell in the snow
And beneath the false nose, Santa saw a faint glow
It seems this wasn't Donner at all, that much was made clear
It seemed it was Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Alas, poor Rudolph, his bright nose starting to fade
Would be placed in the earth until he decayed
And it seemed that Santa had killed one of the deer
That had been making poor Scrumptious' food disappear
Rudolph, it seemed, had bore a disguise
So that he'd be able to blend in and hide
Among the other reindeer, while the rest of them died
But that night in the cold, in the reindeer's old pen
Rudolph's larcenous kibble-eating career met its end
The next morning, however, yet more kibble was gone
And so they'd vote once again,
and lynch another guilty fawn
'Twas the fourth night of bloodshed, since Santa had snapped
And Kris Kringle had woken from a long winter's nap
He yawned from his sleigh, parked out in the snow
And listened to the Saints football game on the radio
He's a Saints fan of course, he is a saint after all
Santa was hammered before they even kicked the ball
He cheered for Thomas as he rushed for a score
And he cheered for Drew Brees as he threw for one more
He gobbled some pork rinds as he cheered a Hartley field goal
And he laughed as the Bucs fell deep in the hole
Just before the half, the Bucs broke their streak
But at 3 to 17, for their team it looked bleak
Santa roared with glee and pounded his chest
Everyone knew, Santa thought, that the Saints were the best.
"Who were these Buccaneers, who do they think they are?
Don't mess with the Saints" Santa said, as he lit a cigar.
After halftime was over, Santa was fully tanked
He cheered some more, as the Bucs were getting spanked.
After a bore of a third quarter, and no change in the score,
Another victory cognac, Santa started to pour.
Just then the Bucs scored after a 23 yard gain
But Santa was still confident that the Saints would win the game
But when Spurlock returned the punt for 77 yards
Santa started tearing up all of his Christmas cards
He was steamed that his team would blow a 17-point lead
But as the game went to overtime, he still wouldn't concede
When the Bucs won the toss, he was grinding his teeth
He cheered the Saints defense, one of the league's most elite
but Santa blubbered and he sputtered and he cussed and he swore
When the Bucs offense drove into range for a long-distance score
His face had turned red and his throat was choked tight
When Barth's kick went 47 yards and split the uprights
"How could this be?" Santa hissed, "Just how could this be?"
And Saint Nick was quite pissed. "How could you lose to that team?"
And Saint Nick, with his Santa-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could this be so?
They lost to the Bucs! They blew a huge lead!
In the second half, they frickin' shut out Drew Brees!"
And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then Santa thought of something he hadn't before
"The Saints lost," he thought, "To a team two and twelve."
Such a thought made Santa grab his gun from the shelf
And what happened then...? Well in the North Pole they say
That Kris Kringle's cold evil heart shrank three sizes that day
In a minute his brain just didn't feel quite right
He nearly had a heart attack, in the bright morning light
His blood started to boil, until vessels burst in his head
And he... HE HIMSELF... Would murder every Bucs fan dead!
But before this would happen, Santa would go berserk
And he would slaughter a reindeer, maybe this time, the jerk
Who ate up the dog food, and like a thief in the night
Would sneak back to the pen, while the others slept tight.
So he thought up a plan, and he thought it up quick,
He phoned up his drinking buddy, a close friend of Saint Nick's,
Someone Santa knew, who would think killing reindeer was funny,
Someone as cold-hearted as Santa himself, that crazed Easter Bunny.
And Santa yelled through the phone, "Time to go hunting, buddy Frank!
Let's kill us some reindeer, and do it with a bloody tank!"
And the crazed white rabbit hopped on over with glee,
The two of them driving a tank was quite a sight to see
They drove past the polar bears, they drove over the ice,
And they didn't give a crap who was naughty or nice
Santa had just one thing on his crazy old mind,
He'd flatten everything in sight, as his rage made him blind.
He drove the tank all the way to their pen
And asked through a loudspeaker "What's the tally, again?"
A nervous reindeer held up a sign, as the others started to run,
It showed "Blackadder" had been lynched, three votes to one.
So Santa shouted "HEY DANCER! GET YOUR MANGY BUTT OUT HERE!"
And Dancer watched in horror as Santa's tank came near.
And so Dancer danced off, and he sprinted off in a flash,
As the tank drove through their pen with an enormous crash
Dancer prayed for a miracle, as he tried to dash away
With Santa close behind, in an unholy armored sleigh
And then Santa smiled; his sadistic glee he did show,
As a blast from the main gun sent Dancer into the snow.
O'er the hills the tank went, treads lifting up off the ground,
Until the thing came crashing down, with an earth-shattering sound
And all that was left of Dancer, indeed all that remained
of his corpse that was flattened, was a big bloody stain.
The Easter Bunny and Kris Kringle drank in celebration
of their unholy deed, which guaranteed them damnation
But what sanity was left, in Santa's twisted mind
Was all gone the next morning, when he happened to find
That yet more kibble had gone missing from the big kibble sack.
So one last time, the poor reindeer, would have to vote who'd get whacked.
And if they did not find the true culprit today,
Santa warned, one last time, that they would ALL truly pay.
Twas the fifth night of mischief, since the slayings began
And one of the reindeer had hatched a master plan
One that would end Nick's murderous spree
And end in a wond'rous New Year reindeer jamboree
"It is time to fight back" the head reindeer said
"If we don't, my companions, we'll all end up dead."
The others nodded, and they were in agreement
They would all put an end to their brethren's pain and torment.
While Santa was busy, arguing with his wife
One of the reindeer confiscated a knife
Another, a Smith and Wesson model 19
The third, a flamethrower, to cause damage extreme
They plotted their escape from their broken pen
Never to return to that same hellish den
They went out to the frozen lake near the pole
And hid nearby with the weapons they stole.
One of them, however, started tapping the ice
With his hooves rather sharply, in a manner most precise.
And they waited for a while to spring their clever trap
After Santa awoke from his post-domestic-fight nap
He went out to the garage to grab his shotgun
And counted the votes up to see who had won
He went to the pen to slay the crooked deer,
But he saw that the three of them had disappeared!
So he followed their tracks, in the fresh fallen snow
Down to the valley, near the frozen lake below
He followed their tracks to the edge of the lake
And that's when Santa made his fatal mistake
He stepped onto the ice, and began to cross
As the reindeer prepared to ambush their boss
When he was almost across, they sprung their trap
They came from three sides, and then closed the gap
They charged at Santa, their weapons held high
Confident these were Santa's last moments alive
At this point, however, the reindeer felt dumb
They couldn't wield them properly; for they had no thumbs
And so they watched as the evil old Saint Nick
Pumped his deadly shotgun with a chilling "click click"
But fortune was smiling on the poor animals that night
As Santa lost his balance and slipped on the ice
The reindeer charged, their antlers angled low
And pounded Saint Nicholas into the snow
They bashed and they bucked and they bloodied him up
They kicked his teeth in, and his skull was concussed
They rammed him, and shook him, like a bowl full of jelly
They smashed him quite hard in his fat hairy belly
He was knocked back, and slipped once again on the ice
And it was here that Santa paid the ultimate price
He slid to the middle of the frozen lake
Where the ice, already cracked, started to break
The reindeer watched with great expectation
They trotted a bit closer, in joyful anticipation
As beneath evil Claus, the ice split and gave way
(He must have eaten too much Chinese buffet)
Into the icy drink evil Santa Claus splashed
The only thing left of him was his sash.
The reindeer, especially Vixen, breathed a sigh of relief
As he was today's vote-winning suspected thief
"You guys, I promise you, I didn't take the treats
Just the thought of angering Santa made me wet the sheets"
And Comet nodded, in agreement with Vixen
And Dasher observed "Hey, what happened to Blitzen?"
That's right, they remembered, there were nine reindeer
Just where did Blitzen and Donner disappear?
Well naughty Rudolph shipped Donner to Abu Dhabi
And took on his identity, to aid his thieving hobby
But that left Blitzen still unaccounted for
There were only three left, shouldn't there be more?
Too late, it dawned on them, another reindeer was missing
His bloody corpse in a box, all wrapped up with a string
He was shipped to Nick as a morbid Christmas present
By a murderous reindeer, with most malicious intent
The murderer was among them, but which one, and why?
Weren't they all united, as brothers, to make Santa die?
It seems that among them, there was a traitor so shrewd
as to let his brothers all die, just to steal some food
The three remaining deer looked at each other with suspicion
Which one that remained was of evil disposition?
Dasher shook his head and said "It wasn't me,
I'm innocent guys, this I will guarantee"
And Comet spoke up, in a manner most sincere
"I'd never, ever, harm a fellow reindeer"
So they looked at Vixen with accusatory eyes
And said "You killed Blitzen... all traitors must die"
They both charged at Vixen and rammed his furry hide
And across the lake ice, he began to slide
Into the icy water, where he would sink down
Because he couldn't swim, and thusly, he drowned.
So Dasher and Comet nodded at one another,
Confident they had lynched their murderous brother
And Comet laughed, as Dasher jumped on the ice
Their nightmare now over, their future sure looked nice.
Comet warned Dasher to please be cautious;
The ice was still thin, and those jumps made him nauseous.
But Dasher looked at him with a cold, icy stare
And snorted, and tapped his hoof on the ice, with a glare.
The ice underneath them started to crack
And Comet lost his footing and fell on his back
Dasher dashed off to the safety of the snow
As the integrity of the ice sheet started to go
With a shout, Dasher shouted "You can die like Vixen,
THAT ONE WAS FOR RUDOLPH, AND MY NAME IS BLITZEN!"
And with a laugh, an evil laugh, Blitzen blitzed off
No longer would he eat like a pig at a trough
He could dine all day on sweet Christmas kibble
He'd never have to argue for his fair share, nor quibble
Blitzen could eat and eat until he had his fill
It was his greedy appetite that caused him to kill
He and Rudolph were finally fed up with the swill
It was time to send Scrumptious to an old puppy mill
And dispose of Mrs. Claus, with her voice so shrill
He'd slash her to bits, and make her blood spill
(It seems that murdering gave Blitzen a cheap thrill)
He'd bury her carcass up on the old snowy hill
And inherit the workshop, as it said in Santa's will
Which of course, Blitzen forged, with his clever forging ways
And he'd retire, fat and rich, happy for the rest of his days.
FrisianDude 说:
You'd like to think that, wouldn't you.
'Fraid I am the lyrical genius in your midst, 'stachio.
*nodding his head, pimp hat and shades shining how amazingly villagery he his.*
You'd all better believe it.
Magpie one is advocating Xardog and Pizza's lynch, btw.
(Bee) gee I wonder who wrote such a thing.
Tis a mystery. Roll eyes.
(Bee) gee I wonder who wrote such a thing.
Tis a mystery. Roll eyes.
I could see wall posts 2 & 5 as being from wolves. Will elaborate when I get home.
They have an agenda, for sure.
For example, Magorian's post looks like he wants to telegraph his votes for the next phase.
That's nice because it assumes that both Pizza and Xardog will be alive, not murdered, when the wall was being written.
So it demonstrates an awareness of who the wolves won't be murdering.
At this point you could probably POE me, Magorian, and Xardog and 2 of us will flip wolf. So if Magorian wants credit for lynching baddies so badly I say let him have such credit.
Cue Magorian moving off of Xardog before end of round for reasons such as this post, arrrrggghhh pizza is so incredibly wolfy, now I have to vote for him here, can't you guys see how wolfy he is, are you blind, and italics the word obvious because it's a callback to a thing I said.
Seriously Magorian knows how to entertain as a wolf, I give him that.
I would love to watch him work after the next wolf dies today, and see what he does for the rest of the game. Somewhere along the line I'll die and it will become possible for him to win at final 3.
I'll be rooting for him at that point, by the way.
For example, Magorian's post looks like he wants to telegraph his votes for the next phase.
That's nice because it assumes that both Pizza and Xardog will be alive, not murdered, when the wall was being written.
So it demonstrates an awareness of who the wolves won't be murdering.
At this point you could probably POE me, Magorian, and Xardog and 2 of us will flip wolf. So if Magorian wants credit for lynching baddies so badly I say let him have such credit.
Cue Magorian moving off of Xardog before end of round for reasons such as this post, arrrrggghhh pizza is so incredibly wolfy, now I have to vote for him here, can't you guys see how wolfy he is, are you blind, and italics the word obvious because it's a callback to a thing I said.
Seriously Magorian knows how to entertain as a wolf, I give him that.
I would love to watch him work after the next wolf dies today, and see what he does for the rest of the game. Somewhere along the line I'll die and it will become possible for him to win at final 3.
I'll be rooting for him at that point, by the way.
But we could lynch Soot if Pharaoh X Llandy says that's where we're going today.
Soot or Xardog, imo.
Magorian played d1 too masterfully to be the lynch vote.
Let us resolve our sexual tensions later. For now, dead wilfs.
Soot or Xardog, imo.
Magorian played d1 too masterfully to be the lynch vote.
Let us resolve our sexual tensions later. For now, dead wilfs.
FrisianDude
Archduke
My neighbour is called Wilf(red). Don't kill him, his wifey's pregnant.
