*If you know them, then I don't own them. They belong to Marvel. *
A/N: Well I've finally cracked! Here's the proof. I'm confirming my reservation to the "Nut House" tomorrow.
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even Beast himself,
The mangled stockings were hung by the chimney with Logan's care,
In hopes that the "Old Fat Jolly Man" would soon be there.
Gambit was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of naked Rogues danced in his head,
Scott in Jean's black-lace teddy, and Jean in the chair,
Cause she was scared to sleep too close to him…
When out on the snow covered lawn there rose such a clatter,
Jean sprang from the chair to see what was the matter,
Away to the window she flew with a red flash,
Telepathically opened the shutters and threw up the sash.
What to her wondering green eyes should appear,
But a huge sleigh, and eight makeshift reindeer,
With an old driver, so fat and not so quick,
She knew in a moment it must be an insane version of St. Nick.
Slower than cold molasses his courses they came,
And he cursed, and shouted, and screamed out their names:
"Now, Sinister! Now, Mojo! Now, Vargas and Cassandra!
On, Sabretooth! On, Apocalypse! On, Toad and Blob!
To the top of the porch! Oh crap! Watch out for the wall!
Quick dash away! Dammit! Dash away all!"
As heavy wet leaves before the wild hurricane have trouble to fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, oh how they must cry,
So slowly and painfully up to the mansion-top the courses they flew,
With the sleigh full of questionable items, and the insane St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a very long twinkling, Jean heard on the roof
The heavy thuds of the Blob's obese hoofs.
As she drew in her head, and was turning around,
Jean had to dodge a chunk of plaster that came tumbling down,
As she picked herself up off the floor,
Down the chimney came the insane St. Nick with a feral roar.
He was dressed in Polar Bear fur from his head to his foot,
And his clothes reeked of stale cigarettes and three-week-old beer.
A bundle of "toys" he had flung on his back,
He looked like a drunk straight out of the tank.
His eyes- how they were bloodshot, his dimples- how scary!
His cheeks were like dead roses, his nose like a rotten cherry!
His thin pale lips were drawn up in a snarl,
And the beard on his chin was knotted and thin.
The butt of the cigarette he held in his yellow teeth,
Scared Jean beyond her wildest belief.
He had a board face and a huge round belly
That shook, when he walked like a ten-gallon bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, but no jolly elf,
And Jean trembled in fear when she saw him, not in spite of herself.
An evil twinkle of his eye and a 360 twist of his head
Soon gave her to know she had everything to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his demonic work,
And filled all the mangled stockings
With various types of poisons, explosives, and non-alcoholic beer.
Then he turned with an evil jerk,
And sticking his finger up his nose, popping out his eyeballs, and wiggling his toes,
Up the ash covered chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a crack of a whip,
And away they flew as if they were being poked,
By the pitchfork he held on his lap.
But Jean heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Screw Christmas, and have a "Hell" of a night!"