Twas the night before Christmas, when here on this blog,
Ratchet and Oilslick were wasted on ‘Nog,
and Blitzwing was loaded by the chimney with care,
out of fear that the Krampus soon would be there.
Bumblebee was nestled all snug in his bed,
dreaming of knives and new severed heads.
And Streaker in Norman, and Venom in Cap,
and Storm inside Venom, or at least in his crap.
(Those… Those are just his pants, right?)
When then from outside came the roar of a truck,
I rolled over in bed, not giving a fuck.
So deep in my sleep, I ignored the next crash.
The roof became buckled. The chimney was smashed!
With a grunt and a drawl amid the debris,
a van’s ass for his chest and as red as can be,
Blitzwing fell back as he gave a good pause,
not Krampus before him but old Iron Klaus!
What joy would he bring, with a wink and a nod?
(His head could look up thanks to my clever mod.)
Though he came from the mall, this wasn’t a phony.
Blitz jumped in his arms and “I VANT A PONY!”
In shock he was held for a few second’s pass,
and then he was dropped, and kicked in the ass.
His skidplate dented, disappointment set in.
Obviously, Klaus had no pony with him.
“Tarnation!” he drawled, “You ain’t on my good list!”
“Yer a ‘Con fer Prime’s sake! And ahm ah might pissed!”
No coal for a present, he gave with his fists.
Each finger was named and he called out the list.
“Ohn Basher! Now Smasher! Now Ornery and Nixon!
Ohn Gasher! Ohn Gnasher! Ohn Poker and Stinky!
Ta the back of his head! Ta the side of his jaw!
Now punch away! Punch away! Punch away all!”
His eyes- how they twinkled! Blitz surely saw stars.
His face- like a smurf but as angry as Mars.
Blitz tried to endure this year’s Christmas beating,
but quickly he felt his conscious receding.
As he fell to the ground and spit out more teeth,
his helmet so dented it looked like a wreath,
Blitz heard him exclaim while he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas ta all, and ta ‘Cons ah sore night!”