T'was the Night Before Christmas- CIGSRSMOKER's STYLE!
My late present to the board. Sorry if I left some of you out. Either the poem was not long enough, your name does not rhyme with anything, or I do not like you--
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the land
Not a creature was stirring, not even NakedGun’s hand.
The humidors were stocked by the accessories with care,
In hopes that sweet smoke would soon fill the air.
The CigarSmokers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Padrons danced in their heads.
And TCG by her oak tree, and Cinda sitting in chat,
Had just settled down to look at ChefChris’ new tat.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clitter-clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see who was this Mad-Hatter.
Away to the window I saw a siren and a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw out my ISOM stash.
The moon lit dimly on a black sky so bleak and boring
Meanwhile, another online purchase was being made by Drew Goring.
When, what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,
But Basil’s driving coolider, and eight kegs of beer.
With a little crazy driver, so full of code and text,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Hex.
More rapid than a CC spell check, his members they came,
And he shouted with a smoker’s cough, and called them by name:
"Now, Shelby now, Woxof- now, Lopaka and CgrDan!
On, Dickson! on Bassfever! on, StJohnRoe and nhcigarfan!
To the top of the porch damn it! To the top of the Pit-
Now dash away! Dash away fast because Cigarsarge can’t see shit.
As dry filler leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
Mauied, Newfie, Sidewinder, Desert Rat, BigMacFU, Dhutch, Cabaiguan Juan and a bunch of other smoking fockers also caught my eye.
So up to the house-top the members they flew,
With their photoshop programs, and a man named Shagaroo..
And then, in a twinkling, I was banned from StogieChat-
Must of pissed off Puromooch - it happened like that.
As I burnt my fucking hand, and was turning around,
Cop convention in full effect- Tommy, George and Ken were around.
Santa was covered all in fur, from his head to his toe,
This looks more like Kevin7; not the Santa I know.
A bundle of Consuegras he had flung on his back,
And he looked like Hefty showing off his big sack.
His eyes -- how they scowled! his dimples how scary!
Definitely not a Democrat like BPP and Barry.
This was not Santa,- K7 must have kicked his ass,
Guado and Loudpipes (holding hands) decided to pass.
The nub of his gar, he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He was such a foul mouthed brut, I decided not to bother
I needed backup instead so I quickly PM’d the Godfather.
He was stout and proud, a right jolly old elf,
And I spit coffee on my laptop, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye, *cough*, and a twist of his head,
Soon led me to know- only Spammers and Asshats had something to dread!
He sprang to Basil’s driving coolider, to his team- gave a shout,
And away they all flew like a newbie after a CoventyCat bout.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a fucking good-night!!!"
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