I don't even know where this came from. I've never done any poetry before in my life, so it's probably so cheesy and awful but hey, it's Christmas!

Twas the night before christmas, and in the Glass house,

Claire was studying the theories of Gauss.

Stakes were hung by the chimney with care,

Just in case vampires would soon be there.

Shane was asleep, all snug in his bed,

While visions of Claire danced in his head.

Michael and Eve were up to some frolic,

As they made out in the Secret Room's closet.

When suddenly on the lawn there was a great shatter,

Shane sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window he flew in a daze,

Tore open the shutters and screamed a rude phrase

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,

Gave Myrnin a reason to show up below

When what to our wondering eyes should appear,

But Frank wearing leather and holding a beer.

Off in the distance, behind the japonica,

Wearing high heels, was our good friend Monica.

Faster than vampires, her minions they came

And Shane screamed and shouted and called her insane.

Now Amelie, Now Oliver, not giving a damn,

Followed by the ghost of our ginger friend Sam

Sam shot Oliver a look that could kill,

Then started gazing lovingly at the founder of Morganville.

The vampires stepped forward whilst Amelie called,

"Bishop is here, prepare for a brawl"

Down the stairs the Glass house gang flew,

With a bag full of stakes and a flamethrower too,

With a growl and many noises so vicious,

Down the chimney came good old Bishop,

As Eve grabbed a stake and was turning around,

The vampire - he told them "Stop! Quiten down!"

Just like that, silence rang through the room,

Their hearts started pounding with a feeling of doom,

Bishop was dressed like a thug, from his hat to his shoes,

Everyone knew he wasn't here for a schmooze.

A bundle of stakes he had flung on his back,

And Claire started to fear that he needed a snack,

Michael braced himself to fight the vampire,

But all Bishop did was look at the fire,

His fangs were bared, there was blood on his teeth,

He suddenly grabbed and destroyed an innocent wreath.

Out from his pocket, he pulled a blood bag,

And everyone gasped that they need a white flag

His ears were pointed, just like an elf,

And Claire almost laughed in spite of herself,

The bag was drained easily, as quick as a flash

And the remainders were thrown out into the trash,

The blood round his mouth was glaring bright red,

And all of a sudden they started to dread,

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,

Pulled out a black book and gave them a smirk,

Out of his mouth, there came a sick laugh,

Then Bishop ran to the chimney and rose in a dash,

He ran to his Shelby Cobra, out in the street,

And before they could think, he jumped in the front seat.

But they heard Myrnin scream as he drove out of sight,

"Merry christmas you arsehole, let's call it a night,"