The Night Before Christmas (Slingshot Style)

Twas the night before Christmas (Slingshot Style)


(Apologies to Clement Clarke Moore, author of the original poem)

This poem has had a "mod" performed by Tripod for the amusement of the forum.

Enjoy!


“Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,


In hopes that Saint Rabtech soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of new mods danced in their heads.


Mama in her sleazy nightgown and I in just my Slingshot cap,
Had just settled ourselves for a "hot" winter’s "nap".


When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a
flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

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 gorgeous White Slingshot, and four turboed "cylindeers".

With a jolly, fat driver, so lively and ornery,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Rabtech.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Goats_Hogs! Now, Kenny! Now, Stickerdick and Ross!

On, FunCycle! On, Tango! On Jorge and FITS!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"


As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house top, the coursers they flew,

With the Sling full of mods, and Saint Rabtech too.


And then, in a twinkling, I heard from his bearing

The telltale clicking but Saint Rabtech not caring.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Saint Rabtech came with a bound.


He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with axle grease and soot.

A bundle of mods he had flung on his back,

He looked like a vendor, just opening his pack,

(And the hot babe that was with him had a really nice rack!)

His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a hash pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round
belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and a 'twist' of his
head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his
nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney with boost he arose!

He sprang to his Slingshot, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy 'SlingMods' to all, and to all a good-night!"

Quote from KayTwo

Jesus, when you're not working, you really don't have shit else to do, do you?