clockworkturnip: Wrote this one for my mom as a Christmas present. Night Before Christmas –...

clockworkturnip:

Wrote this one for my mom as a Christmas present.

Night Before Christmas – Transformers Version

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the base
Not a creature was stirring; of the ‘Cons, not a trace.
The stockings were hung by the ammo with care,
Though no one quite knew for what or why they were there.

The Autobots were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Energon danced in their heads.
With Bulkhead snoring loudly and Arcee ready to snap,
They had settled their circuits for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Ratchet turned on surveillance to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Flipped on his phaser and readied to blast.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When what to Ratchet’s wondering optics appeared,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a huge metal driver, so lively and quick,
Ratchet thought that this crazy old ‘Con must be sick.
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

“Now Starscream! Now, Soundwave! Now, Breakdown, and Throttle!
On, Kickback! On, Ramjet! On, Knock Out and Schrapnel!
To the top of the base! To the top of the wall!
Now, dash away! Dash away! Dash 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 base-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and old Megatron, too.

And then, from the roof, though this may sound quite wacky,
Came the whining and groaning of each metal lackey.
Ratchet shook his great head, and was turning around,
When down the chimney Lord Megatron came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his metal was tarnished with ashes and soot.
A pack of explosives he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a terrorist, just opening his pack.

His armor – it twinkled! His deadbolts, how merry!
His eyes red as roses, his nose like a cherry!
His huge, shark-like mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And his fake beard of squirrel fur was white as the snow.

The remains of a plane he held tight in his teeth,
And its smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a terrible laugh
That made you quite sure that this year was your last.

He was built like a tank, a cold, nightmarish elf,
Any human who’d seen him would have soiled themself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave Ratchet to know there was plenty to dread.

Megatron spoke no word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, half the base did explode.

He sprang to his sleigh, to Soundwave gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

Ratchet heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
“Take that, Autobot bastards! Have a great Christmas night!”