I wrote this pretty fast. It is now 2:02 AM on Christmas Morning. Happy holidays people, and don't forget: you can't stop the Cole-Train!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Gears of War or 'Twas the Night Before Christmas', though all the changes made to the former are my intellectual property and should not be reproduced. Besides, suing me would cost more money than you would get out of me, so there.
--
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the home,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a drone.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Augustus soon would be there.
The Gears and the Stranded were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of death and destruction danced in their heads.
And Marcus in his 'kerchief, and I like a water-tap,
Had just shut down for our long winter's nap.
When out in the streets there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from our bunks to see what was the matter.
Away to the window we slid as on grease,
Slammed into the wall and made a big crease.
The moon on the breast of the new-opened holes,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the swarms of Locust below.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature train, and eight tiny reindeer.
With a big old driver, built like a large bus,
Marcus knew in a moment it must be St. Gus.
More rapid than Ravens his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and whooped, and called them by name!
"Now Marcus! now Dom! now Anthony and Benjamin!
On, Minh! on, Kaliso! on, on Baird and Hoffman!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now take cover! Take cover! Take cover all!"
As dead Locust that before our heavy boots fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the train full of guns, and St. Augustus too.
And then, in a twinkling, we heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
Then Marcus revved his chainsaw, and was turning around,
When down the chimney St. Augustus came with a bound.
He was dressed all in armor, from his head to his foot,
And his chest-plates were all tarnished with blood and black soot.
A bundle of weapons he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a soldier, just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were quite dark, his nose like a blackberry!
His big droll mouth was drawn up in a smile,
And the little beard on his chin was bloodsoaked for a while.
The stump of a clawed finger he held tight in his teeth,
And the blood it dripped around his feet like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a tight muscled stomach,
That held, when he laughed, like a bowful of concrete!
He was muscled and huge, a right jolly big lineman,
And Marcus laughed when he saw him, like a longtime fan!
Then with a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
St. Gus showed that we had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings with weapons galore; then he turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his train, to his team gave a croon,
And away they all flew with an ear-splitting boom,
But we heard Gus exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Can't stop the Cole-Train baby, this' my kinda sh**!"
--
Who loves ya' babeh? WHOO!!