A Visit From St. Missileboat
Posted: Fri Dec 25, 2015 2:34 pm'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the mines
Not a drone was drilling, not a pyro did fly;
The homers were spawned by the reactor with care,
In hopes that St. Missileboat soon would be there;
The pilots were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of busdrivers danced in their heads;
And sitting alone in my chair kicked back,
I'd just powered down for a long winter's nap,
When outside the mines there arose such a clatter,
I fired the 'burners to see what was the matter.
Away to the dogroom I flew like a flash,
Shot through the doorway and tore up the shaft.
The Earth loomed above, in a lustrous blue glow,
And light glanced off the moon surface below;
When there before me, 'lo and behold!
A festive space barge pulled by eight pyros!
With a little old driver, so jolly and drunk,
I knew in a moment it must be PFunk!
More rapid than eagles his pilots they came,
and he grunted, and yammered, and bellowed their names:
Now, Behe! Now, Baha! Now, Melvin! Now, Wats!
On, Jedi! On, Drakona and LotharBot!
(And somebody *hic!* else's name I forgot!)
To the top of the mine! To the edge of the pit!
Now trichord away! Let the 'burners be lit!
The barge lurched forward and nearly was flipped,
So closely it swung, my head ought be clipped!
So up to the mineshaft entrance they flew
With a barge full of Goodies, and St. Missileboat, too!
The pilots and barge-sleigh streaked 'cross the sky,
Then the team descended and landed nearby
As I dropped down the shaft and was turning around,
Down the tunnel St. Missileboat came with a bound,
He was armed with quad lasers and his aim was quite steady,
Though the booze on his breath was both thick and heavy.
A bundle of missiles he had on his back,
Smarts, and Homers, and Proxy 4-packs.
His Spread - How it twinkled! his Plasma how merry!
His Fusion was useless, but his Vulcan quite scary!
He looked quite at home in this rotten old hole,
A mirthful fellow with a fiendish soul:
He stapled an X to my backside and said,
"You'd best get to running, or you'll end up quite dead!"
He launched off a homer! 'Round the level, fast
I flew three loops before it hit me at last.
He fired lasers and vulcan, and then through the grate,
he tossed a smart missile, sealing my fate.
With wink of his eye, and a twist of his ship,
Soon my pyro began to boil and flip!
He spoke rambling words, and set to his work
Spawning all missiles from Logic to Lurk.
And jamming his finger into his nostril.
Loudly proclaimed his intentions not hostile.
He respawned my ship, and flew up out the mine,
Where his pyro team waited, all gallant and fine,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good fight!"
Not a drone was drilling, not a pyro did fly;
The homers were spawned by the reactor with care,
In hopes that St. Missileboat soon would be there;
The pilots were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of busdrivers danced in their heads;
And sitting alone in my chair kicked back,
I'd just powered down for a long winter's nap,
When outside the mines there arose such a clatter,
I fired the 'burners to see what was the matter.
Away to the dogroom I flew like a flash,
Shot through the doorway and tore up the shaft.
The Earth loomed above, in a lustrous blue glow,
And light glanced off the moon surface below;
When there before me, 'lo and behold!
A festive space barge pulled by eight pyros!
With a little old driver, so jolly and drunk,
I knew in a moment it must be PFunk!
More rapid than eagles his pilots they came,
and he grunted, and yammered, and bellowed their names:
Now, Behe! Now, Baha! Now, Melvin! Now, Wats!
On, Jedi! On, Drakona and LotharBot!
(And somebody *hic!* else's name I forgot!)
To the top of the mine! To the edge of the pit!
Now trichord away! Let the 'burners be lit!
The barge lurched forward and nearly was flipped,
So closely it swung, my head ought be clipped!
So up to the mineshaft entrance they flew
With a barge full of Goodies, and St. Missileboat, too!
The pilots and barge-sleigh streaked 'cross the sky,
Then the team descended and landed nearby
As I dropped down the shaft and was turning around,
Down the tunnel St. Missileboat came with a bound,
He was armed with quad lasers and his aim was quite steady,
Though the booze on his breath was both thick and heavy.
A bundle of missiles he had on his back,
Smarts, and Homers, and Proxy 4-packs.
His Spread - How it twinkled! his Plasma how merry!
His Fusion was useless, but his Vulcan quite scary!
He looked quite at home in this rotten old hole,
A mirthful fellow with a fiendish soul:
He stapled an X to my backside and said,
"You'd best get to running, or you'll end up quite dead!"
He launched off a homer! 'Round the level, fast
I flew three loops before it hit me at last.
He fired lasers and vulcan, and then through the grate,
he tossed a smart missile, sealing my fate.
With wink of his eye, and a twist of his ship,
Soon my pyro began to boil and flip!
He spoke rambling words, and set to his work
Spawning all missiles from Logic to Lurk.
And jamming his finger into his nostril.
Loudly proclaimed his intentions not hostile.
He respawned my ship, and flew up out the mine,
Where his pyro team waited, all gallant and fine,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good fight!"
