‘Twas the Night Before Irksmas, In Our Dear Warehouse (A Jaunty Tale of Fuko Woe)
Twas the night before Irksmas, in our dear warehouse
Not a creature was stirring, not even Woodhouse;
The Fukos were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that ol’ Irk Claus soon would be there;
But one steel asshole reared his ugly head,
Mediocre Bot, the bastard, with coal eyes gone red.
And Glen, I suppose, that poor old sap,
Tagged along with him unaware of his crap.
For when the bot did the door window shatter,
And the two snuck in with a light pitter patter,
Did Mediocre bot, at once, all dickish and brash,
Beeline straight to our dear Fuko stash.
Now, good old Glen wasn’t really in the know,
Or aware of the ensuing horror show,
He had just come in hopes of free beer,
But across the warehouse he then did hear,
“These users, these humans, they make me so sick!”
Mediocre Bot sputtered, wielding a Meh selfie stick,
“They think that these deals are all just a game!”
And tried to, in rage, our dear Fukos maim.
“Hey, you can’t go and bust peoples’ stuff!”
Glen yelled in an attempt to sound all tough.
“They pay for this shit, even if it’s all junk,
It’s funny to see what they ordered when drunk.”
“Then give me something else I can take,
Think quickly with these precious Fuko lives at stake.”
Glen pondered and pondered, but he’d hit a snag,
Until his eyes wandered to yon Fuko bags.
“Of course, the actual bags, that’ll hit them deep!”
And Mediocre Bot did take them all to keep.
Glen bid farewell to the dastardly thief,
Thinking “Crisis averted,” he sighed with relief.
Little did Glen know that the Mehtizens would riot,
"If it didn’t have the bag then I wouldn’t buy it!"
Thus Dave now has Glen sowing a new bunch from scratch,
So fingers are crossed he doesn’t screw up this batch.
- 27 comments, 47 replies