‘Twas the night
before Christmas, at least in LA—
For Dan, Phil, Jack, and Pewds, ‘twas in fact Christmas Day.
But for Mark, the clock chimed out eleven at night,
And he scritched Chica’s ears as he reached for the light.
All his friends and
his loved ones were likely asleep,
But Mark texted “goodnight” before counting his sheep.
His eyelids grew heavy, mind drifting toward dreams,
When the silence was shattered by thudding and screams.
“Oh, godDAMMIT!” A
voice echoed out of the smog;
Mark jumped out of bed and tripped over his dog.
He recovered and made for the window with poise,
Which vanished when he spied the source of the noise:
‘Twas Arin, decked
out in a red coat and hat,
With a sleigh full of gifts and an elf-costumed cat.
And pulling the sled as it hurled through the sky
Were the Game Grumps and Holly—turns out, they can fly!
They were dressed
up as deer, with bright antlers and hooves,
And cute onesies to keep them all snug on the roofs.
Their noses were painted; t’were tails on their butts,
As they flew past the window (and Mark’s frantic “WHAT”s).
“Now, Suzy; now, Barry;
now, Ross, Dan, and Brian!
On, Vernon; on, Holly; on, Jack, Matt, and Ryan!
To the top of the house, without hitting more walls!
And don’t challenge me, Ross; you don’t have the rein-balls!”
As Arin called out,
the Grumps swooped in to land;
Mark wondered if he should go offer a hand.
The rooftop was angled, not built for a sleigh,
And a hospital’s no place to spend Christmas Day.
But before Mark
could move, he did hear a soft sound—
‘Twas the thump of the sled as it safely touched down
And the shuffling of friends on his roof in hoofed feet,
So Mark whipped out his phone, and he tweeted a tweet.
@GameGrumps in costumes came out of the sky.
They’re up on the housetop! I swear I’m not high.”
Then his phone gave a buzz in the palm of his hand,
For @bwecht had replied, “Mind your own business, man.”
Mark huffed but
then straightened and made for the stair
After giving the screen one more halfhearted glare,
For he heard Arin’s boots on the living room floor,
And Mark had a few questions, and then several more.
Arin bustled about,
a large sack near his feet
From which he took gifts and then stacked them up neat.
A smile lit his face with each present retrieval;
When he laughed, his form shook like a bowl full of evil.
“Dude, what the
hell?” Mark demanded, perplexed,
“You broke into my house! Where’s the courtesy text?
And why didn’t you tell me our friends can all fly?
Are these presents a trap? Like a face full of pie?”
Arin’s eyes, they
did twinkle; he spoke not a word,
Merely finished unpacking, Mark’s questions unheard,
For his headphones were hidden beneath his red cap.
Then he vanished, his ears full of jolly gift-rap.
Mark gaped like a fish,
then he rushed out the door;
All the Grumps shot him hand-hearts and took off once more.
They explained not a thing; Arin yelled, merry-bright:
“Happy holidays, all, and to all, a good night!”
Mark facepalmed and
dragged himself into the house;
Not a creature was stirring, neither Chica nor mouse.
All the gifts glimmered, innocent, under the tree;
They could wait til the morning, post-sleep and coffee.
And so if, in December,
you hear a strange sound
While you’re sleeping with nary a witness around,
Just remember this tale, and do try not to jump
If you creep out of bed and discover a Grump. ;)