💾 Archived View for spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › holiday › omnixmas.hum captured on 2023-11-14 at 10:05:51.
⬅️ Previous capture (2023-06-14)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
LAST WORD 'Twas the Night Before Christmas 'Twas the night before Christmas and all through my home, Not a creature was stirring not even my clone. The test tubes were hung by the burner with care, In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there. The androids were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions on mc2 danced in their heads. My wife in her jumpsuit, and I in my vest, Had just settled down to some drug induced rest. When out by the labs there arose such a clatter, My bed woke me up to see what was the matter. Away to the window, I hastened my mass, Tore open the blast shields, and threw up the glass. The refraction of moonlight through smog-ridden air Gave a luster of midday to everything there, When what to my bionic eyes did appear, But a mass driven sleigh with some strange landing gear, With a quick little pilot, a company man, who did what was asked and followed the plan. More rapid that phantoms, his coursers they came. He impulsed his crewmen, and called them by name. "Now Redox! Now Hewlett! Now Quasar and Photon! "On laser! On Xerox! On Pulsar and Proton! "To the top of the dome by the air intake vent. "Now dash away quickly before our fuel's spent" So, up to the air vent his coursers they flew, With a craft full of toys and Saint Nicholas, too. And then, in a flash, on the dome I hear The scratching and scraping of stout landing gear. I steadied my blaster, my chest to the ground, And then, through the air vent, he came with a bound. He was dressed in a three-piece he'd rented near here, (why purchase and outfit you wear once a year?) A life support system he wore on his back, While the toys for the 'droids he took out of his pack. A bottle of Synthroid he held in his hand. (He was quite overweight from a poor thyroid gland) He brought out the toys that department stores sell; The elves at the Pole couldn't make them as well. He checked with the base ship, while doing his work, And filled all the test tubes, then turned with a jerk. His anti-grav belt was secure, I suppose, And pressing the key's up the air vent he rose. He sprang to his craft, to the crew gave a shout; The ship heaved a shudder, then blasted them out. But I heard him exclaim, as he flew out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good flight!" Call The Works BBS - 1600+ Textfiles! - [914]/238-8195 - 300/1200 - Always Open