How the Megs stole Christmas
SilverBlade
Every bot in Botville liked Christmas a lot
But the Megs, who lived just north of Botville, did not!
The Megs hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
Now please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason
It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right
It could be, perhaps, he received as a gift, the movie Twilight
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his spark was two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason, his spark or the movie with a paper-thin plot
He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating those Bots
Staring down from his lair with a scour, Predy frown.
At the warm lighted windows below in their town
For he knew every Bot in Botville below
Was busy now, with mountains of gifts in tow.
"And they're hanging their stocking!" he said with displeasure
"Tomorrow is Christmas! Time for drastic measures!"
Then he growled with his metallic fingers drumming.
For tomorrow, he know all the Bot girls and boys
Would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their toys!
That's the one thing he hated, was the noise, noise, noise
And they'll sing! And they'll sing! And they'd sing! Sing! Sing! Sing!
And the more the Megs thought of the Bot's Christmas sing
The more the Megs thought "I must stop this whole thing!"
"For 400 years, I've put up with it now!
I MUST stop this Christmas from coming, but how?"
Then he got an idea, an awful idea.
The Megs got a wonderful, awful idea!
"I know what to do!" The Megs laughed from his throat
And he quickly replicated a Santa Clause hat and a large red coat
And he cackled and grinned "What a great Predy trick
With this hat and coat, I'll look just like Saint Nick!"
You're a mean one, Mr. Megs. You really are a con
You're as cuddly as a Sharkticon, you're as charming as Alligatorcons
Mr Megs! You're about as bad Unicron!
You're a monster, Mr Megs. You're spark is black, not blue.
You're brain is full of viruses, you make me want to spew.
Mr Grinch! You give everyone the stomach flu!
He pulled out a sleigh and some bags and old empty sacks
He climbed into the chair "Time for some pay back."
The Megs tapped some buttons and the sleigh started down
Towards the homes where the Bots slept in their town
All the windows were dark. No one knew he was there.
All the Bots were all dreaming sweet dreams without care.
When he came to the first cybertronian house of the square.
"This is stop number one." The old Mega-Claus hissed
As he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist.
Then he slid down the chimney, a tight fight, it's true
But if Santa's magic could do it, Cybertronian tech could too.
He got stuck only once for a minute or two.
Then he stick his head out of the fireplace flue
Where the little Bot stockings hung in a row.
"These stockings" he hissed. "Are the first things to go.."
Then he hovered and maneuvered, hoping not to make a sound
Around the whole room, he took every present around!
Data pads, Monitors, digital music players and holo-games
Cleaning drones, computers, TV's and digital picture frames.
And the stuffed them in bags. Then the Megs, surprisingly nimbly,
Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney.
You're a vile one, Mr Megs. You must have spiders in your dreams
You have all the tender sweetness of a rampaging Starscream
Mr Grinch! Given the choice between the two of you, I'd take the rampaging Starscream!
You're a rotter, Mr. Megs. You're the king of sinful thoughts
You're spark's a dead engine with red rusty spots
Mr. Megs! You're a three decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce!
Then he hovered to the fridge. He took the Bot's feast!
He took the cyber-pudding, and the roasted beast!
He cleaned out the fridge as quick as a flash
Why, that Megs even smoked the last puff of the Bot hash!
Then he stuffed all the food and up the chimney with glee.
"Now!" grinned the Megs. "I will stuff up the tree!"
As the Megs took the tree, as he started to shove,
He heard a small sound like a coo from a dove.
He turned around fast and he saw a small Bot.
Little Wheelie. "This annoying young one" he thought.
He stared at the Megs and said "Santa Clause, why
Are you taking our tree during your fly-by?"
But you know, that old Megs was so smart and slick
He thought up a lie, and pretty damned quick
"Why my rhyming little Wheelie" the fake Santa Clause lied
"There's a light on this tree that seems to have died
So I'm taking it home to my workshop, rhyming one,
I'll fix it up there, and I'll bring it back before the rising of the sun"
And his fib fooled Wheelie, then he patted his back
He got him a drink, and sent him to his sack.
When Wheeie was in bed with his cup
He crept to the chimney and stuffed the tree up.
Then he went up the chimney himself, the old liar
And the last thing he took was the log for the fire
On their walls he left nothing but hooks and bare wire.
Then he did the same thing to other Bot's dwellings
Leaving nothing but crumbs, can't even be called shellings
You nauseate me, Mr. Megs. With a nauseous super 'naus'
You're a crooked dirty jockey whom I want to slice with claws
Mr Grinch! You're spark is an appalling dump heap and no regard to any laws!
It was a quarter of dawn, all the Bot still in bed
All the Bots still snoozing, when he packed up his sled,
Packed it up with their presents, their ribbons and their wrappings
Their games and their computers, their iPads and their trappings
Ten thousand feet up, on the side of Mount Con
He rode with his load to the top. Once the lead is released, it's going to be gone.
"For too long I've fought those Bots!" he was humming
"They're finding out now that no Christmas is coming!
"They're just waking up now, I know what they'll do!
They're mouths will hang open for a minute or two.
Then the Bots down in Botville will cry. My justice was far overdue!"
"That's a noise!" grinned the Megs. "I simply must hear!"
He paused and the Megs put a hand to his ear.
But this sound wasn't very sad
Why, this sound he heard, sounded glad
Every Bot in Botville, the short to the bold
Was singing without the wrapping to unfold
He hadn't stopped Christmas from coming. It came!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Megs, with his metallic feet in the snow
Stood puzzling and puzzling "How can this be so?
It came without touch screen. It came without apps
It came without packages, boxes, or wraps!"
He puzzled and puzzled, till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Megs thought of something he hadn't before
Maybe Christmas, he thought, can't be purchased from a store
Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means so much more.
And what happened then? Well, in Botville they say
That the Meg's spark grew three sizes that day!
And then the true meaning of Christmas came through
And the Megs found the strength of ten 'Cons..plus two
And now that his spark didn't feel quite so tight
He whizzed with his load through the bright morning light
With a smile on his spark, he descended Mount Con
Cheerily blowing "Bots! Bots!" while they looked on.
He road into Botville. He brought back their toys
He brought back their gifts to the girls and boys
He group back their iPads, screens and games
Brought back their apps, movies and digital frames
He brought everything back, all the food for the feast
And he, himself, the Megs carved the roast beast
Welcome Christmas, Bring you cheer
Cheer to all Bots, far and near
Christmas Day is in our grasp,
So long as he have hands to grasp
Christmas Day will always be
Just as long as we decree
Welcome Christmas while we stand
Spark to spark, and hand in hand