Sluggy Freelance - Twas the night...

To whomever is reading this, this classic poem was butchered in about 2 hours for the Sluggy Freelance Forum (over two days), so it's not the best since the original meter and rhyme is basically nonexistent due to the time constraints. Read at your own peril...


Twas the night before Thursday, when all through the forum
Not a human was stirring, not even a troll.
The spammers were hung by the cesspit with care,
In hopes that St. Peter soon would be there.

The horrors were nestled all snug in their cages,
While visions of nightmares danced in their heads.
And Zhoas on her stick, and I in the nude,
Had just eaten some brains for a long winter's nap.

When out in the sky there arose such a screaming,
I crawled from my casket to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I gave everyone a flash,
Tore open the drapes, and pressed against the glass.

The moon on the oily surface of the rotting bog
Gave the luster of blood to the decay below,
When, what to my annoyed eyes should appear,
But a giant zeppelin and eight tortured souls.

With a leather clad driver, so evil and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Pete.
More rapid than demons, his coursers they came,
And he cursed and shouted and called them names:

"Damn Torg! Damn Riff!
Damn, Gwynn and Zoe!
Damn, Schlock! Damn, Frog!
Dammit, Sam and Aylee!
To the top of your voices!
To the top of your lungs!
Now scream away! Scream away!
Scream away to hell!"

(to be continued...maybe)

As rotten leaves that before the unholy wind dropped,
When they meet with an obstacle, drop like lead to the ground
So above the house-top the coursers they floated,
With the zeppelin full of "toys", and St. Peter too.

And then, in a tinkling, I heard on the roof
The emptying of bladders of each poor soul.
As I drew away from the glass and was turning around,
Through the roof St. Peter came with a crash.

He was dressed all in leather, from his crotch to his neck,
And his limbs were all scarred with lashes and blood.
A bundle of "toys" he had hooked into his back,
And he looked like a psycho just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they pierced! His pits, how hairy!
His cheeks were like razors, his nose like a hook!
His droll toothy mouth was drawn up in a sneer,
And the flesh on his face was as white as bone.
The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the acrid haze encircled his head like death.
He had a sharp face and well defined abs,
That rippled when he laughed, like a bag of lead shot.

He was muscular and thin, a right unholy demon,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A squint of his eyes and a tilt of his head
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread.

He screamed at me, and went viciously to work,
And sliced my skin with his whips, then ceased with a stare.
And laying his fingers aside of his crotch,
And giving it a scratch, out of the hole he inhumanly jumped.

He returned to his zeppelin, to his team he yelled an expletive,
And away they all flew like death was chasing.
But I heard him curse, as he rose into the clouds,

"Damnation to all, and to all a sleepless night!"