The forces of nature came at his call
And up from the oceans there came a great squall
A storm front that rose a kilometer tall
That, with one word, he commanded to fall
It ravaged the land, a destructive maul
Not just on Gastonia, but upon them all
…see, I’m not afraid of Santa. Coal? Bring it, fatboy. Don’t blame me when I MAKE you eat the burnt cookies and curdled milk I left for you. Teach you to think twice about denying a child his Red Ryder carbine-action, two hundred shot Range Model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time. I’ll shoot my eye out? PLEASE. Chicks dig scars.
Now. Axemas? I think I’m in trouble, friends. Whole lotta trouble.
It was the night after Axemas and all through the town,
Not a creature was standing, because I chopped ’em all down!
Their heads I hung up by the chimney with care
In hope that Tectonicus soon would be there.
The orc-slaves were nestled in their dirt rock beds
With visions of whiplashes torturing their heads
It’s murder for profit ’til I reach level cap,
I’ll just splatter your brains for a long dirt nap
My girlfriend is sleeping on a bed of fresh leaves,
while I search for the one in whom no one believes.
When up on the Chimney,
Despite all who would doubt,
Stood Best with his Axe,
Ready to rock out!
“He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot…”
(didn’t even need to change that one;D)
We rushed to the windows, didn’t have to go far
Shouting to one another “it’s that crazy HR!”
With his crazed grin, glazed eyes and purple cravat
He exclaimed “I am as GOD here, what do you think about THAT?!”
Laying a finger aside of his nose,
He incanted some words and the seas fell and rose.
The forces of nature came at his call
And up from the oceans there came a great squall
A storm front that rose a kilometer tall
That, with one word, he commanded to fall
It ravaged the land, a destructive maul
Not just on Gastonia, but upon them all
The orc-slaves were nestled in their dirt rock beds
With visions of whiplashes torturing their heads
Aw, crap.
Time for another merry holiday adventure with the gang. Will Scipio’s cigar learn the true meaning of Axemas?
Maybe this year he will finally get a lighter.
Scorpio doesn’t need a lighter, he’s the guilded age equivalent of Chuck Norris. The cigars light themselves.
Scipio…stupid phone autocorrect…
!…MORE!
He knows when you’re sleeping,
He know when you’re awake…
…see, I’m not afraid of Santa. Coal? Bring it, fatboy. Don’t blame me when I MAKE you eat the burnt cookies and curdled milk I left for you. Teach you to think twice about denying a child his Red Ryder carbine-action, two hundred shot Range Model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time. I’ll shoot my eye out? PLEASE. Chicks dig scars.
Now. Axemas? I think I’m in trouble, friends. Whole lotta trouble.
So here it is Axemas, and as far as I know, all Frigg wants is STILL her box to get unwrapped.
You mean her stocking stuffed.
pudding eaten? XD
Axemas, the only time of the year Frigg regrets she chose mace.
Axe, mace, hammer: they all have nice long hard shafts.
I like how on an archive read the ever updating avatars act like mini-baby-spoilers.