It was a cold winter's morning filled with holiday cheer,
As Roman Torchwick went to get him some beer.
He didn't have money, but that wasn't a problem,
For stealing wallets helped absolve 'im.
Into the bar, he went with a swoop,
Carrying cookies stolen from a girl scout troop.
In the tavern, Roman had quite a fright
Cause there was nary a beer in sight.
Observing this problem, he thought it quite through.
"I'm going to have to beat a motherfucker or two."
Strolling to the bartender, he flashed his cane,
"Give me some beer, old man, or you'll be in pain."
The bartender laughed, and his crew drew near
"You'll have to get through all of us to get to that beer."
Roman glared at the gaggle, all of them crooks,
So what happened next would never make it to police books.
Leaving the bar, his happy eyes a'glaze,
As behind him the bar set ablaze.
Into the warehouse, he did saunter,
Hoping Neo was there to taunt 'er.
He saw Neo on the couch in a fret.
"So even crooks have bad dreams," he bet.
In her stress Neo's silence did break,
While he wondered what money from her he could take.
"Well you see Torchwick, I'm feeling quite glum,
Because I just had dream about fairies with sugar plums."
"And what's wrong with that? That's not help you're needing."
"But the problem is, in my dream, NONE of them were bleeding!"
"Oh Neo, my dear," he said with a quiet mutter.
(In reality, it came out with a drunken sputter)
"Perhaps we should go, it's almost New Year's
And I even got us a couple of beers!"
He declared, not recalling his prior greedy binge.
"Well, where are they?" Neo asked with a winge,
"Damn, I knew I forgot something" He said, with a slump
As his drunken body fell down with a thump.
"Nevermind it! We'll go to a bar!" Neo declared with a cheer!
"About that, I just burnt down the one nearest here."
"Well.. hpmh." Neo pouted, her eyes downcrest.
"Well wait! There is another around here!" Roman did attest.
Quick as a whistle, they raided the bar,
Even if the distance was rather far.
Returning with armloads of booze,
as the barkeep found himself in a snooze.
They drunkenly toasted the red-cloaked brat,
And then they immediately drank to forget that.
They bashed their scheme, and badmouthed Cinder,
Publicity of the plan certainly they did not hinder.
They laughed and and drank swapped stories of times on the job,
Particularly times being beaten by kids (of which there were a gob).
As they passed out, the room was spinning.
A feeling that they felt when RWBY was winning.
When he woke up, it was the new year.
Even with aches, he thought,
"Still better than most of my shitty career."
Had to pull out "ye olde dictionary" on this one, but coming up with the rhymes was a ton of fun, and in the end, that's all that matters, right? *cough*cough* Merry Christmakwanzukkah, everybody!
