- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
A bit late, I know, but here it is:
'Twas the night before Bungie Day
And all through the fleet
Not a creature was stirring
Not even an Elite.
The Banshees were docked by the loading bay with care
In the hopes that Master Chief soon would be there.
The Grunts were all nestled and snug in their beds
While visions of food nipples danced in their heads.
Then outside the ship there arose such a clatter
I ran to the bridge to see what was the matter.
Then what to my wondering eyes should appear
But Master Chief and seven Longswords in high-gear.
And that augmented soldier, so lively and quick
Boarded our ship with his anti-SOB stick.
He killed a few Grunts, shot an Elite in the face
And continued to make mincemeat out of our race.
Nothing could stop his murd'rous rampage
As he killed and he killed, venting his rage.
He planted a bomb on our ship and left in a hurry
Away from John-117 the Grunts did scurry.
He sprang on a Banshee and, as if to say good-bye
He stuck a plasma grenade on my thigh.
And as I died, and we lost the fight
He said "Happy Bungie Day to all, and to all a good night!"
The meter is a bit skewed, I know, but I basically had fifteen minutes to write this thing.
[Edited on 7/8/2004 12:10:44 PM]