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the night before Quakemas

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  • 24-12-1998 3:55pm
    #1
    Hecate
    Registered Users Posts: 2,518 ✭✭✭


    for those of you without Q2, heres the night
    before quakemas poem, by clan drooling chickens(sorry bout the caps):

    Twas the night before Quakemas, and all through the house, not a computer was whirring, not even a mouse. The connections were setup byt the router with care, and hoped that John Carmack soon would be here. The net players were all passed out on their beds with visions of fragging dancing through their heads. The computer with its 3com, the router and the net, had just been shut down for a long winters nap. When from out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, thinking it was Romero or mabye John Cash. The moon on the Texas desert did glow, putting a luster on Ion Storm's offices below. When what to my wondering eyes did appear but John Carmack's Ferrai and the smell of burning gears. IT WAS DRIVEN BY A SPACE MARINE SO LIVELY AND QUICK, I KNEW IN A MOMENT THAT HE HAD A BOOMSTICK. MORE RAPID THAN INTEL, HIS CURSES THEY CAME, HE WHISTLED AND SHOUTED AND CALLED OUT SOME NAMES: "NOW WHITTIZ, NOW STEED, NOW BRIAN AND ADRIAN, ON KEVIN ON BRANDON AND CATHERINE ANAKANG. TO THE TOP OF THE PORCH, ROCKET JUMP THE WALL, FRAG EM, KILL EM, DESTROY THEM ALL". ROCKETS FROM THE LAUNCHER DID THE MARINE LET FLY, BUT THEY MET WITH OBSTACLES OR DISAPEARED INTO THE SKY.
    SO UP TO THE HOUSETOP THE MARINE HE FLEW, WITH A PACK FULL OF AMMO AND A CHAINGUN TOO. AND THEN IN A TWINKLING I HEARD ON THE ROOF, THE SOUND OF PINEAPPLES DROPPING DOWN THE CHUTE. AS I DREW IN MY HEAD, AND WAS TURNING AROUND, DOWN THE CHIMNEY THE CRAZED MARINE CAME WITH ABOUND. HE WAS DRESSED ALL IN ARMOUR FROM HIS HEAD TO HIS FOOT, AND HIS UNIFORM WAS ALL TARNISHED WITH ASHES AND SOOT. A BUNDLE OF WEAPONS HE HAD SLUNG ON HIS BACK, AND HE LOOKED LIKE A MADMAN AS HE PUT MORE ROX'S IN A RACK. WHEN
    I CAUGHT SIGHT OF THIS OVERGROWN ELF, I SOILED MY PANTS IN SPITE OF MYSELF. HE SPOKE NOT A WORD BUT WENT STRAIGHT TO HIS WORK, AIMING HIS LAUNCHER AT ME WITH A JERK. THE PULL OF HIS TRIGGER AND HIS GRIN LIKE DEATHS HEAD, LAID ME AGAINST A WALL KNOWING I SOON WOULD BE DEAD. THEN, RAISING HIS MIDDLE FINGER TO HIS NOSE, HE GRABBED HIS CROTCH AND UP THE CHIMNEY HE ROSE. AWAY HE FLEW LIKE A WELL SHOT MISSLE. LEAVING THE SMELL OF CORDITE AND BURNT GRISTLE. BUT I HEARD HIM EXCLAIM AS HE DROVE OUT OF SIGHT: "HAPPY QUAKEMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A BLOODY NIGHT".



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