Authors Note: I know it's after Christmas, but this just hit me, hope you enjoy.
Now, for the leagalese:
I don't own Jak, Daxter, the game or any part of the universe in which it is set. But boy do I have fun playing there!!
I don't own the poem Twas the Night Before Christmas either. That belongs to Major Henry Livinston Jr.
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"Twas the Night Before Christmas"
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the ranks,
Not a soldier was stirring, not even a tank.
The hellcats were parked in the garages prepared,
With the hope that Praxis would notice the care.
The Krimson guards were all snug, all tucked in their beds,
While visions of rifles danced in their heads.
Vin at his lab And Torn in the hideout,
Had just settled down for a long winters shootout,
When out in the city there arose such a clatter,
The Baron rose from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Turned off the force field and threw up the sash.
The moon glistening on the new-fallen snow,
Gave the glow of noon to people below,
When, what to Praxis' wondering eyes should appear,
But a zoomer manned by rage, and aimed for his lair.
With a driver so angry, and Ottsel so lively and quick,
Praxis knew in a moment it must be Dark Jak.
More rapid than eagles on his zoomer they came,
And Jak snarled, and shouted, and called out their names;
"Now, Praxis! Now, Erol! Now, evil men all!
Beware Krew, and henchmen, Krimson guards will fall!
Over the top of the Palace! Over the top of the wall!
I've come to make you pay for it all!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the palace top the pair they flew,
With a heart full of anger, and vengeance too.
And then, in a twinkling, Praxis heard on the roof,
The Explosions and gun fire of each failed ambush.
As Praxis drew in his hand, and was turning around,
Down the stairway Dark Jak came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fury, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all crackling with dark eco and soot;
A bundle of weapons he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a soldier just itching to attack.
His eyes -- how dark! His attitude not merry!
His claws were like daggers, his vengeance quite scary!
His angry mouth was drawn up in a grin,
That put fear into the heart of even strong men;
With Ottsel on one shoulder and pack on the other,
He made an appalling comment about Praxis' mother;
Jak had a dark countenance, his power quite deadly,
And it bubbled through him like volcanic fury,
He was thin and dark, a right livid young elf,
And Praxis cursed when he saw him, in spite of himself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave Praxis to know he had everything to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
roaring toward Praxis; then stopped with a jerk,
The man he was after had gone with a snap,
Angering Jak and ruining his attack,
Giving a nod, up the stairs Jak flew;
The bomb would go off any minute he knew,
He sprang to his zoomer, to his Ottsel gave a whistle,
And away they both flew like the down of a thistle.
But the city heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all except Praxis this night!"
Now, for the leagalese:
I don't own Jak, Daxter, the game or any part of the universe in which it is set. But boy do I have fun playing there!!
I don't own the poem Twas the Night Before Christmas either. That belongs to Major Henry Livinston Jr.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Twas the Night Before Christmas"
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the ranks,
Not a soldier was stirring, not even a tank.
The hellcats were parked in the garages prepared,
With the hope that Praxis would notice the care.
The Krimson guards were all snug, all tucked in their beds,
While visions of rifles danced in their heads.
Vin at his lab And Torn in the hideout,
Had just settled down for a long winters shootout,
When out in the city there arose such a clatter,
The Baron rose from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Turned off the force field and threw up the sash.
The moon glistening on the new-fallen snow,
Gave the glow of noon to people below,
When, what to Praxis' wondering eyes should appear,
But a zoomer manned by rage, and aimed for his lair.
With a driver so angry, and Ottsel so lively and quick,
Praxis knew in a moment it must be Dark Jak.
More rapid than eagles on his zoomer they came,
And Jak snarled, and shouted, and called out their names;
"Now, Praxis! Now, Erol! Now, evil men all!
Beware Krew, and henchmen, Krimson guards will fall!
Over the top of the Palace! Over the top of the wall!
I've come to make you pay for it all!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the palace top the pair they flew,
With a heart full of anger, and vengeance too.
And then, in a twinkling, Praxis heard on the roof,
The Explosions and gun fire of each failed ambush.
As Praxis drew in his hand, and was turning around,
Down the stairway Dark Jak came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fury, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all crackling with dark eco and soot;
A bundle of weapons he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a soldier just itching to attack.
His eyes -- how dark! His attitude not merry!
His claws were like daggers, his vengeance quite scary!
His angry mouth was drawn up in a grin,
That put fear into the heart of even strong men;
With Ottsel on one shoulder and pack on the other,
He made an appalling comment about Praxis' mother;
Jak had a dark countenance, his power quite deadly,
And it bubbled through him like volcanic fury,
He was thin and dark, a right livid young elf,
And Praxis cursed when he saw him, in spite of himself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave Praxis to know he had everything to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
roaring toward Praxis; then stopped with a jerk,
The man he was after had gone with a snap,
Angering Jak and ruining his attack,
Giving a nod, up the stairs Jak flew;
The bomb would go off any minute he knew,
He sprang to his zoomer, to his Ottsel gave a whistle,
And away they both flew like the down of a thistle.
But the city heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all except Praxis this night!"