'Twas the AiE Night Before Christmas (oneshit poem)

>T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the thread
>No green could be seen, many thought it was dead
>All the lurkers were pussies, too afraid to post
>And many previous writefags had all turned to ghosts

>Still more readers were nestled all snug in their bed
>Fapping all Christmas, thinking of ponies giving them head
>Yes it seemed that thread was all settled right then
>Quietly slipping away to page 10

>The speed of the board that day was awfully slow
>With not much activity on threads above or below
>Then what to our green-starved eyes should appear?
>But an old fat red bastard, with human slaves instead of deer!

>He dragged them all in, so lively and quick
>Who knew that old Santa could be such a dick
>More rapid than catbirds his bitches they came,
>And he whistled, and farted, and called them by name!

>"Now Gatorbait! now, Fapman! now, TexAnon and 8th-sin!
>On, Mandroid! On, Bolding! on Crossroads, loveandpowerlifin’!
>To the top of the board! Don’t you dare let it sit!
>Now write away! Write away! Even though you’re all shit!”

>Parkers and namefags before the wild shitstorm fly,
>When they meet with disagreement, they just shitpost and cry.
>So into a new thread the chained writefags just flew,
>With regrets and much drinking, and the old red bastard too.

>And then, in a moment, a few writefags began
>To write before the whip of the obese red man.
>Before you could question, or vent out your worries,
>Those faggots began creating something sorta like stories.

>They were dressed very shoddily, like he didn’t let them shower
>And every last writefag bowed down to his power,
>He looked so smug and so greedy and willing,
>Like a chubby old jew, getting ready for shilling.

>But the writefags, they toiled! They did not at all tarry!
>Perhaps they were afraid of him popping their butt cherry!
>A trail of tears followed, wherever they’d go,
>And the cumstains on their pants were as white as the snow.

>But they did not stop, and the stories came tumbling,
>About all our favorite ponies, and Anon, dumb and bumbling.
>What’s more was their stories, both romantic and smelly,
>Got bored readers posting, old Flutterrape was jelly!

>The scene was so joyous, all of them writing like a tard,
>With readers around them, crying, cracking up, getting hard,
>With each little post, with each story in the thread,
>We soon did know our general was far from dead.

>And Saint Nick? He smiled, seeing his work was done!
>He went to all our dear writefags one by one.
>He loosed their chains, and said, voice trembling and true:
>”If you stop writing, I’ll come back and fucking kill all of you.”

>He sprang to his sleigh, he left them violated,
>But he left the thread full of green, the cloppers all satiated.
>And I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove too far away to see,
>"Merry Christmas you faggots, long live AiE!”


(Would have used more writefag names if I could. Fapman, iceman, jazzteeth, beans, myself, etc. Still love you shitlords too.)