Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through Xbox Live
Players were scurrying away from my sights,
Trying to survive
My family was nestled,
All snug in the keep
And I was so hopped up on Red Bull
That I'd never sleep.
The tree was brightly lit
in my living room,
while a plethora of soldiers
walked to their doom.
I was gazing into my favorite electric screen,
Having holiday fun,
Mowing people down
With my M4A1.
When out on the lawn there arose such a hullabaloo
I got up from my console (and you would have too)
I ran to the window to see what made the noise
And I saw a giant abandoned bag of toys.
I thought it was strange,
So I looked above my head,
And I was witness to some sort of
I'd heard of these phenomena,
They're strange, resembling current trends,
Like getting kicked off of an airplane
For playing 'Words with Friends'.
More rapid than Banshees,
Without wings they flew,
Freakin' deer in the sky
And an old man too.
They circled around
And crashed into my roof,
So I grabbed my phone's camera
Compelled to get proof.
Through the chimney they came,
In an entrance quite rude,
A bunch of elves, animals,
And some portly old dude.
He claimed that he was
The all powerful lord of dread
and for some odd reason,
He wanted me dead.
Well that wasn't cool,
See with me, that didn't jive
I was content
With being alive.
So I proposed an idea,
A challenge he'd take,
I'd confront him and his crew on my Xbox,
It'd be a piece of cake.
It started off easy,
I was playing well.
I planned on sending this fatman
Right back to Ho-Ho-Hell.
We sat down in deathmatch
And right away I knew
That the elves posed no threat,
And I brought down a third of his crew.
Then one by one, like lambs to the slaughter
I blew those caribou out of the water.
And suddenly, like magic the truth did appear:
I had just slayed eight tiny reindeer.
Santa grabbed a controller,
A new game he inserted,
The bastard paused for a moment,
He plays with his settings inverted.
I spawned near the sniper
Looked through the scope and thought
“Chief, guide my aim…” and
I wanted to post this on social networks,
I had just capped Santa
Right in the face.
But then trouble struck:
Turns out the Kringle's got skills
He started racking up achievements
And multiple kills.
The score was tied up,
And now I could feel
That this guy wasn't a noob,
And that this shit just got real.
I had a needler
And he had a sword,
So I lit him up like New-Year's Eve
Because, goddammit, I'm “Gord”.
He dropped the controller on to the floor
And I knew my life was safe,
And in danger
Even though we were rivals,
Trading bullets and frags,
At the end of the evening,
We exchanged gamertags.
Before he disappeared up the chimney
He made a Vulcan salute by his head,
And he told me: “Practice up..”
“…Or next year, you're dead.”
And as he flew away out of sight,
I speculated that he travelled the rest of the night
Handing out retribution and terrible things,
Like coal, and that new Lord Of The Rings.
And though it was unexpected,
I still checked, and he
Had left me alone, with
Some free DLC.
But deny it or not,
In his heart,
He knew the score.
And next year he owes me a copy of Halo 4.