This was an awesome theme (sentence?) in this writing exchange thingy that I was doing. I'm pretty sure I failed epicly at catching the theme (sentence?), but I was still entertained. This is what happens to your normal stories when you start writing song parodies…
Thank AnnieMayDetective (I hope I got that right) for this theme (sentence?)!
O.O.O.O.O
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the street
Not a person was stirring, not even Edward;
The banks were all closed by the laws of the land,
In hopes that the policemen would not be there;
The bankers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of foreclosures danced in their heads;
My pet rock in its basket, and I with my smoke,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the chaos of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
But my Colonel from work, and a giant black sack,
His bag stuffed full to the brim, sirens all blaring,
I knew in a moment he had robbed a bank.
More rapid than eagles the police they came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called him bad names;
"Stop, robber! stop, corsair! Stop, stealer and thiever!
On, bandit! on thugger! on, brigand and gafter!
To the left of the street! to the top of the hill!
Now catch him soon! Catch him soon! Catch him soon, all!"
As gunshots that behind the wild Colonel fly,
When he meets with an obstacle, jump to the sky,
So up to my front porch the Colonel he flew,
With the bag full of cash, and men on his trail.
And then, in a banging, I heard from the front
The breaking and crashing of my wood front door.
As I ran down my stairs, and was aiming my gun,
Through the kitchen Colonel Mustang came with a bound.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with white snow and wood;
A big bag of cash he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a madman just opening his pack.
His eyes - how malicious! his smile how evil!
His hands were so frozen, his hair had icicles!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the gloves on his hands were as white as the snow;
A freshly made coin he held tight in his teeth,
And his laugh it encircled the house just like smoke;
He had a broad face and a very nimble hands,
That shook, when he worked like a vibrating wind chime.
He was grinning and strong, a right weirdo old self,
And I screamed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had something to dread;
He spoke not a word, but continued his work,
And stashed all his money; then turned with a jerk,
And laughing madly as cops took him away,
And giving a grin, in the cop car he plopped;
they sprang to the road, when the team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like Edward near a needle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight,
"Happy spending Havoc, and please have a good-night."
O.O.O.O.O
I should not write while I'm in a Christmassy mood.