SlackerMcFly
12-20-2005, 06:47 PM
<font color="red"> With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore </font>
'Twas the night before Christmas and all on the forum,
Were PWNING and winning at No Limit Hold-em.
Four tables were loaded with an Ace and a pair,
High hopes were abundant, the fishies were there.
The fish were all calling each push with two reds,
While visions of flushes danced in their heads.
And MILF in her lacies, doing a grind in my lap,
Had just moved all-in with 3 bets to cap. /images/graemlins/grin.gif
When on all four of my tables, the cards went amok!
I pushed from the cut-offs and won...WTF? /images/graemlins/confused.gif
I busted the shortie with an Ace and a duck,
Then shoved on the big blinds, my box full of luck.
The light from my monitor, that bluish-green glow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Benz holding an old fart just drinking a beer.
He's a tiny old MOERAN, so lively and slick,
I knew in a heart-beat this aint no St. Nick. /images/graemlins/grin.gif
More rapid than downswings, his coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them bad names.
"Now Beefie! now, Sixes! now, Raptor and Cleinen!
On, Yugo! on Slacker! on, Irie and Durron!
To the top of the boards! to the top, make the call!
Now poosh away, poosh away, poosh away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the playas they flew,
With the Benz full of booze and the old Moeran too.
And then in a twinkling I heard Lacky say:
"Ship it you Biatches! I came here to play!" /images/graemlins/shocked.gif
As I folded my hand and was turning around,
Down the chimney the old Moeran came with a bound.
He was dressed for Bahama from his head to his foot,
His clothes were all ironed, he thought he looked goot. /images/graemlins/confused.gif
A box full of wine he had slung on his back,
And he looked like a newbie just donking his stack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled, his dimples how merry!
The smell of his breath was of Heinies and sherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as Yugo. /images/graemlins/blush.gif
The stump of a blunt he held tight in his teeth,
He probably bought it from the guy who Hates Keith.
He had a broad face and was deaf in one ear, /images/graemlins/tongue.gif
What the hell did he want? It just wasn't clear.
He was chubby and plump, a bit full of himself,
And I laughed when I saw him, the dorky old elf.
A wink of his eye and twist of his head,
Was a tell that he'd fold if he's drawing dead.
He spoke not a word but went straight to the kitchen,
And drank all my beer, and then started bitchen.
Then laying a finger aside of his nose,
He gave a big belch and up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to the Benz to his team gave a shout,
And away they all flew like they just busted out.
But I heard him exclaim, downing a shot with a lime,
"Holla Christmas to all, it's past my bed-time!" /images/graemlins/frown.gif
HoHoHoMcSlack /images/graemlins/laugh.gif
'Twas the night before Christmas and all on the forum,
Were PWNING and winning at No Limit Hold-em.
Four tables were loaded with an Ace and a pair,
High hopes were abundant, the fishies were there.
The fish were all calling each push with two reds,
While visions of flushes danced in their heads.
And MILF in her lacies, doing a grind in my lap,
Had just moved all-in with 3 bets to cap. /images/graemlins/grin.gif
When on all four of my tables, the cards went amok!
I pushed from the cut-offs and won...WTF? /images/graemlins/confused.gif
I busted the shortie with an Ace and a duck,
Then shoved on the big blinds, my box full of luck.
The light from my monitor, that bluish-green glow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Benz holding an old fart just drinking a beer.
He's a tiny old MOERAN, so lively and slick,
I knew in a heart-beat this aint no St. Nick. /images/graemlins/grin.gif
More rapid than downswings, his coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them bad names.
"Now Beefie! now, Sixes! now, Raptor and Cleinen!
On, Yugo! on Slacker! on, Irie and Durron!
To the top of the boards! to the top, make the call!
Now poosh away, poosh away, poosh away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the playas they flew,
With the Benz full of booze and the old Moeran too.
And then in a twinkling I heard Lacky say:
"Ship it you Biatches! I came here to play!" /images/graemlins/shocked.gif
As I folded my hand and was turning around,
Down the chimney the old Moeran came with a bound.
He was dressed for Bahama from his head to his foot,
His clothes were all ironed, he thought he looked goot. /images/graemlins/confused.gif
A box full of wine he had slung on his back,
And he looked like a newbie just donking his stack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled, his dimples how merry!
The smell of his breath was of Heinies and sherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as Yugo. /images/graemlins/blush.gif
The stump of a blunt he held tight in his teeth,
He probably bought it from the guy who Hates Keith.
He had a broad face and was deaf in one ear, /images/graemlins/tongue.gif
What the hell did he want? It just wasn't clear.
He was chubby and plump, a bit full of himself,
And I laughed when I saw him, the dorky old elf.
A wink of his eye and twist of his head,
Was a tell that he'd fold if he's drawing dead.
He spoke not a word but went straight to the kitchen,
And drank all my beer, and then started bitchen.
Then laying a finger aside of his nose,
He gave a big belch and up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to the Benz to his team gave a shout,
And away they all flew like they just busted out.
But I heard him exclaim, downing a shot with a lime,
"Holla Christmas to all, it's past my bed-time!" /images/graemlins/frown.gif
HoHoHoMcSlack /images/graemlins/laugh.gif