Response to the "Night Before Christmas" challenge on the Bronze. I did
this really fast, so there are lots of holes. Don't care. Just for fun.
And you don't have to tell me I'm bent. I've known it for years.
The Fright Before Kissmas
'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Amy the rat.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nick wouldn't disembowel any children.
The Scoobies were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of a singing Giles danced in their heads.
And Buffy in her jacket, and Spike with bleached hair,
Had just settled down for a long night's patrol.
When out in the graveyard there arose such a clatter,
Spike sprang through the gate to see what was the matter.
Away to the tombstones he flew like a flash,
Tore open the ground and threw up the coffin lid.
The moon, on the breast of the beautiful Buffy,
Gave the lust of perversion to Spikey below.
When what to his wandering eyes should appear,
But a miniature stage and eight tiny Rockettes-
With a little director so lively and quick.
Spike gasped. "What the heck else have you got in there?!"
More rapid than demons her Rockettes they danced,
And Spike whistled and cat-called and called them by name:
"Now, Hot Broad! Now, Sweet Dame! Now, you, you're a Vixen!
On, Baby! On, Mama! And you, Righteous Babe!
To the top of the grave! To the top of the crypt!
Now dance away! Dance away! Dance away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
The Rockettes kicked their legs way up to the sky.
So up to the crypt's top the Rockettes they danced,
With the stage full of legs, and a demon or two.
And then, spider sense tingling, Buffy looked to the roof
To see vampires attacking her little Rockettes.
As she drew back her head and was turning around,
Down from the crypt Rockettes came raining down.
They were dressed all in fur, from their heads to their butts,
And their clothes all sparkled with glittery stuff.
A bundle of vampires flung themselves on their backs,
To feed on the Rockettes. "No, we can't have that!"
Spike's eyes-how they twinkled! His cheekbones how scary!
His breath was like roses, his back wasn't hairy!
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a grin,
And he lived at the whim of the microchip within.
The stump of a cig he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a long coat and a nice six-pack belly
That you can see lots of in "Wrecked"-whoa nelly!
Spike loved Buffy and stuff, but as yet she did not,
And she laughed when he rushed to rescue her Rockettes.
His caring for Dawn and the chip in his head
Gave Buffy to know she had nothing to dread.
Spike spoke no more words, and went straight to his work,
And rescued the Rockettes as she called him a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose . . .
Buffy said to him, "Gross, Spike! Stop picking your nose!"
He staked the last vampire, gave Buffy a kiss,
And away all the Rockettes went back to New York.
Buffy heard Spike exclaim, ere he walked out of sight . . . .
"Rockettes just flew from your chest! You did come back wrong!"
The Fright Before Kissmas
'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Amy the rat.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nick wouldn't disembowel any children.
The Scoobies were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of a singing Giles danced in their heads.
And Buffy in her jacket, and Spike with bleached hair,
Had just settled down for a long night's patrol.
When out in the graveyard there arose such a clatter,
Spike sprang through the gate to see what was the matter.
Away to the tombstones he flew like a flash,
Tore open the ground and threw up the coffin lid.
The moon, on the breast of the beautiful Buffy,
Gave the lust of perversion to Spikey below.
When what to his wandering eyes should appear,
But a miniature stage and eight tiny Rockettes-
With a little director so lively and quick.
Spike gasped. "What the heck else have you got in there?!"
More rapid than demons her Rockettes they danced,
And Spike whistled and cat-called and called them by name:
"Now, Hot Broad! Now, Sweet Dame! Now, you, you're a Vixen!
On, Baby! On, Mama! And you, Righteous Babe!
To the top of the grave! To the top of the crypt!
Now dance away! Dance away! Dance away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
The Rockettes kicked their legs way up to the sky.
So up to the crypt's top the Rockettes they danced,
With the stage full of legs, and a demon or two.
And then, spider sense tingling, Buffy looked to the roof
To see vampires attacking her little Rockettes.
As she drew back her head and was turning around,
Down from the crypt Rockettes came raining down.
They were dressed all in fur, from their heads to their butts,
And their clothes all sparkled with glittery stuff.
A bundle of vampires flung themselves on their backs,
To feed on the Rockettes. "No, we can't have that!"
Spike's eyes-how they twinkled! His cheekbones how scary!
His breath was like roses, his back wasn't hairy!
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a grin,
And he lived at the whim of the microchip within.
The stump of a cig he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a long coat and a nice six-pack belly
That you can see lots of in "Wrecked"-whoa nelly!
Spike loved Buffy and stuff, but as yet she did not,
And she laughed when he rushed to rescue her Rockettes.
His caring for Dawn and the chip in his head
Gave Buffy to know she had nothing to dread.
Spike spoke no more words, and went straight to his work,
And rescued the Rockettes as she called him a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose . . .
Buffy said to him, "Gross, Spike! Stop picking your nose!"
He staked the last vampire, gave Buffy a kiss,
And away all the Rockettes went back to New York.
Buffy heard Spike exclaim, ere he walked out of sight . . . .
"Rockettes just flew from your chest! You did come back wrong!"