It's December, it's nearly Christmas, so it's time for my annual attempt at making a shipper Parody of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas' by Clement Clarke Moore. We all know this wonderfully classic poem, but only some of you know I'm insane enough to warp it every year. This year it's Lisbon and Jane who get the Christmas treatment, and I've also posted a festive Castle version.
'Twas The Night Before Christmas - Mentalist Style
'Twas the night before Christmas, and sprawled on the couch
Patrick Jane was up to no good, for that she could vouch.
Lisbon knew very well the trouble he'd cause
In the name of the Christmas season and Santa Claus.
Last year there'd been chaos all through the unit
Although for the decorations she'd given him credit.
Not many others could fill the building so bright
With sparkles and shimmers that lasted all night.
The year before had been worse, an event most obscure
and definitely not in the CBI brochure.
They were agents of the law, she told him, not actors, you see
As a little boy jumped off Wayne "Santa" Rigsby's knee.
But grottos and santas and decor aside
She was fearful now of how much time he would bide.
The longer he waited, the worse it would be
He'd barely even tinkered with the Christmas tree.
He sat on the couch and he looked at the ceiling
Holding back all the usual glittering Christmas feelings
He showered them with gifts, whatever the cost
But this year Patrick Jane seemed out of sorts...lost.
Lisbon perched in her office, watching him lay
Was there something to do, something to say?
'Twas Christmas Eve night, with few hours to go
Before glad tidings and happy holidays were out to bestow.
Just as she stood, Jane jumped to his feet,
Brushing down his suit and trying to act discreet
But it was to no avail, as by now she should know
With Jane there was always a game and a show.
He caught her eye, showing the twinkle
Expecting a prank, her brow started to crinkle
Each step he took was a thud of her heart
Waiting for whatever he'd planned to start.
But nothing erupted, no tinsel was shed,
No shower of fake-snow rained down on her head.
He just stood before her, sugary sweet
Perhaps there was no trick, perhaps instead a treat?
His eyes lingered upwards, her own to follow
And suddenly she wished she'd stayed with her cocoa.
She knew he'd planned it, but not sure when, though,
Above her door, he'd silently planted some mistletoe.
Tradition, he insisted, could not be ignored
Even when fabricated because he was bored
At Christmas, you see, there was always an attempt
A chance to allure her, a trying to tempt.
Four years now he'd hidden the plant high above
Trying to ignite some passion and Christmas love.
She'd hidden in the ladies room, refused to leave her office
Refusing to participate in such blatant Christmas cheapness.
But there was the mistletoe, hanging up high
She stared at it tiredly, and let out a sigh
What use would it be to hide every year
When it was clear by now he'd persist without fear?
Standing up tall and pointing her toes
She planed a kiss on the consultants nose.
Tradition or not, there was no insistence
About where her lips press to end his persistence.
With that, she took her coat and left for the night
But turned with a grin before slipping out of sight.
Jane stood in place, right where'd left him against the door
Barely able to lift his dropped jaw from the floor.
Her surrender to kiss was not at all expected
A reaction not even Jane could have predicted.
A Christmas miracle, just for himself
A memory of Lisbon to store on his shelf.
With a 'merry christmas' and a 'get some sleep'
She left with a skip in her step, no usual evening creep.
And he found there was more magic in the end of his nose
Than Santa could ever contain inside his grottos.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!