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Disclaimer:
The characters of Methos, Connor MacLeod, and Duncan MacLeod belong to DPP. This fan fiction is for entertainment only; there is no profit involved.
Denise from KC, December 21, 2002 Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the compound Not an immortal was stirring, not even Rich, making a snack round. Our silk stockings were flung over the bedpost with no care We were wikked wenchs, no hopes that St Nick would be there. We women were nestled all snug in our beds While visions of Highlanders danced in our heads. When down by the pool there came such a clatter, Connor sprung from his bed to see what was the matter. Down the stairs he flew like a flash Throwing on his robe (darn it) and tying the sash. The moon reflected off the pool of drool like snow And gave the lustre of mid day to objects below. What to our (we had all followed Connor) wondering eyes did appear But Methos in a sleigh drawn by eight large smelly reindeer. He was in disguise but swearing in ancient Ur and drinking a brew Quck So we all knew he wasn't the real St. NicK More rapid than eagles his curses came and he swore and shouted and called them all by a bad name. MacNairCDC ~~~~~~ “On Flasher! Now, Streaker! Now, Dunder-head and Dix, Oh, come on now, dammit, we’ve no time for this! No, you can’t have a smoke or a Scotch or any of that! Get your a$$ moving, Connor, and Stupid, and Zack And you there, Duncan, leading in this muck-- Watch it with the landings, you’re spilling my Quck! To the top of the railing, to the top of the roof, Pick up the pace or I’ll give you my boot!” As soggy leaves that before the wild hurricane resist, When they meet with an obstacle, crouch low and stick. So out in the driveway the coursers they stopped, With a sleigh full of sacks and Methos (who was quite cross!) And then in a twinkle, Connor heard through the window The stomping and swearing of one old immortal. He drew in his head, and was turning around, When Methos threw open the door and entered with a frown. He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his footgear, And the brew dripped off his sleeves from a spill with the beer. One large sack he had, clutched in his hand Connor knew in an instant, This must be the man! His eyes how they squinted! His mouth a straight line! To Duncan’s present pile, he went on a beeline! He opened the sack and rummaged to and fro, Drew out a large package, tied with a sloppy bow. “There,” he said, between clenched teeth, As he added the box to the colorful heap. “You can’t say I forgot, you Highlander fellow This stuff has more kick—it’ll turn you to jello!” He was crabby and cross, a right cranky old elf Connor laughed when he heard him, in spite of himself. Methos whirled about and twisted his head, But the Highlander just laughed, feeling no dread. The leatherclad man glared and pulled his vest with a jerk, “Just *what* are you doing snooping while I work?” “I’m guarding the presents,” Connor said, “didn’t you know? I should have guarded my Boom-boom, I suppose.” “Hmph,” returned the grumpy Methos with a pout, Then he turned on his heels and went back out. He climbed into his sleigh, to his team gave a swat And away they all rumbled at a very slow trot. But Connor heard him exclaim as he ‘rounded the pool and was clear, “Don’t drink all that Boom-boom without me, you hear?” VERSION TWO: Denise from KC, December 21, 2002 Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the compound Not an immortal was stirring, not even Rich, making a snack round. Our silk stockings were flung over the bedpost with no care We were wikked wenchs, no hopes that St Nick would be there. We women were nestled all snug in our beds While visions of Highlanders danced in our heads. When down by the pool there came such a clatter, Connor sprung from his bed to see what was the matter. Down the stairs he flew like a flash Throwing on his robe (darn it) and tying the sash. The moon reflected off the pool of drool like snow And gave the lustre of mid day to objects below. What to our (we had all followed Connor) wondering eyes did appear But Methos in a sleigh drawn by eight large smelly reindeer. He was in disguise but swearing in ancient Ur and drinking a brew quick So we all knew he wasn't the real St. Nick More rapid than eagles his curses came and he swore and shouted and called them all by a bad name. Lynnann’s ~~~~ "You mangy creatures, you *#^&@#!$! reindeer You jostled the sleigh and made me spill my beer!" "It's all over my suit, and all over the sled. Dash it all! Dash it all! I wish you were dead!" Connor did chuckle, while Duncan did roar. That ancient immortal had forgotten the score If wishes were horses then beggers would ride but at the Compound a genie did bide And then in a twinkling the reindeer did slant and the wish made by Methos, the genie did grant. Richie held his head he was laughing so hard there right before them lay reindeer roasts in the yard. Lots of fur, lots of wailing from girls disappointed But Methos exclaimed, "With the beer I'm anointed." "It isn't my fault, It isn't my doing!" but Connor and Duncan and Richie were spewing. The lights then did twinkle and k'lynn did arrive she frowned at the genie, "mak dem alive!" The genie did stomp and gritted his teeth "It takes more than magic, it takes belief!" "I bleeve," said the sprite, "and connie duz 2 Efen Dunkie and richie babe do." "Da girls dey bleeve, and ennaj she sez aye. So mak dem stand up, or i'm gonna cry." "But what about him," the genie he pointed and Methos just growled, he was still disappointed. "Meetoes bleeve, cuz i sey so, make raindere alive Make dem go, go , go GO!" The genie he nodded, and all was fixed up, The reindeer arose, the reindeer stood up. Methos nodded, so sorry to cause such a ruckus, he knew from Santa he'd probably get bupkis! k'lynn did swarm over the silly old guy and dove into the sack and was heard to cry: "We gotz prezzies for all, so no more boohooing!" And that was for all their very undoing. They laughed and unwrapped and had a merry good time it was Christmas for all - in a silly parTay rhyme. The End!
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