How the X Stole Christmas
Note: This is only meant to be a friendly parody of Dr. Seuss’s classic tale, “The Grinch who Stole Christmas,” and while no actual names are stolen, the general plotline is copyright to him, you get the idea. I don’t want to get in trouble here. That being said, I hope everyone had a merry Christmas, and hopefully this story will make it all the merrier.
Everyone at RPGClassics
Loved when Christmas drew near,
From the founder, Almighty Rast,
To the oft-dreaded Peer
From the Ninjas and Sin,
To Maz and Merlin,
Between whom arguments would often get hot
There was no questioning…
They all liked Christmas a lot.
But MegamanX2K, who lived in a floating castle, did not!
Nay, X hated Christmas, hated all the cheer
Hated all the hypocrisy, hated all the fear,
He hated the fact that presents were given,
And by these supposed facts in his mind X was driven,
To dislike ALL RPGCers, the posters and the staff,
During that time of year.
Why was this, you may wonder?
Well, I haven’t a clue.
It could be perhaps that lamers he can never avoid,
It might be that he couldn’t do a shrine on Super Metroid,
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
Was that his pile of presents was two boxes too small.
Anyway…whatever his beef, be it shrine or lamer hassle,
He fumed all Christmas Eve, up top on his castle,
Playing RPGs and finding new lamers to wrassle,
Such was his life: being an annoying ass-h’le.
And he growled as he sighed for the eighty-fifth time,
Watching the RPGCers chatting, in rhythm and rhyme,
“WHY?” with a glare, looking all sneery, “Why must they dance,
and treat each other so cheery?
It makes me want to vomit!”
Indeed, as Cid joked with Kagon, amidst chatter and joy,
And loud RPG music provided by DG – “Oh boy!”
He thought, sarcastically of course,
“What a FUN little gathering! I’ll have to make a chat record!
And TOMORROW,” he thought, angering by the second,
“It will be even worse, this whole Christmas spiel.”
“They’ll sing their RPGCarols, they’ll have the traditional meal,
Virtual of course, of foods most unreal,
they’ll have the Christmas FARTS, they’ll unveil all sorts of arts,
And I’ll be damned if I let Christmas come again this year!”
“No more noise, no more feast, no more laughter I want to hear!”
And then, as he was about to vomit, it came to him.
An awful idea!
Yes, X had a wonderful, AWFUL idea!
“I know just the thing!” X laughed, most evilly,
“I’ll masquerade…as Maquiladora! It’ll be most weaselly,
For me to sneak into their foolish little chat,
In my old brown fur coat, and my rainbow top hat!
And best of all,” he snickered, “here’s the best part of the trick.
No one knows what he looks like! And he’s just like Saint Nick!”
Indeed, he was mysterious, just the right one to pick.
To pretend to give gifts; X was feeling pretty slick.
“And then,” he continued, talking to himself,
“I’ll take them, perhaps to put upon my shelf,
Destroy the bad, and play the good, all for myself,
Ha ha ha!” shouted he triumphantly, the nassssty little elf.
So he found an old rocket sled, resting under his bed,
And into the chat he sped, only hitting a few trees.
(and pretty badly too, they gave him a harsh bruise which probably wouldn’t go away too
quickly, but I digress)
And the still-wakeful chatters, they said, “Hey ho! It’s The Unseen, before us!”
Not knowing that it was dastardly X, in disguise as Maquiladora.
“Hey hey!” he said, trying to be cheery. “How’s it hanging, fellow staffers?”
“Just great!” they replied, “The tree’s over there, under the rafters!”
They pointed towards a barn by the bank of a river,
and promptly went to bed, completely a-shiver,
at the thoughts of new games, new toys, and new shirts,
At weapons, at books, at exotic yogurts,
And songs, and computers, packages tied up with strings,
These were a few of their favorite things! (shutup Mazrim)
“Makes me want to vomit,” said X, distastefully at best.
“I’ll take this GBA and Lufia 3 for now, and pack up the rest.”
And indeed, he did pack them, with remarkable skill,
And coldheartedness showing his desire to kill,
All who stood in his way, and he was evil! Damn evil!
And just when he thought, “this is way too easy. I’m even getting a high score!”
A young staffer approached him, who couldn’t be more than four…
-teen… and asked, “You know, it’s pretty silly to steal all these Christmas gifts,
You won’t stop it from coming; oh it’ll come, and our spirits it will lift,
You aren’t affecting anything, in this act of hatred and fear,
For all of us at RPGC love Christmastime dear,
Only for what it stands for: love and Christmas cheer,
And not for our presents, in the morning lying here…
And if you fight us like this, with your horrible anger and hate,
You will eventually become us – that will be your fate.”
“Shut up!” X said, throwing a fit.
“I’m sick up to here with your Nietzsche bullshit!
Let’s see what life as a newt is like for you, you twit!”
And he took his Buster and set it to “Ugly Newt” with great care,
And fired, morphing Maz into a newt, destroying his hair.
“NOW!” he said, laughing carefree.
“I’m done sucking up all the presents, I’ll suck up the tree!”
To make a long story short, he did, barring a few errors,
Like the fact he accidentally released a few unspoken terrors,
Or the fact that he repeatedly shot himself with arrows,
Or his complete ineptitude at dealing with trees,
Or an unprecedented attack by an angry group of fleas,
Or a mechanical failure – surely you’ve heard enough –
All that matters is that he did it – and it was tough.
And with that, he laughed, loud, long and rude.
As RPGC was a socialist society, they lived in a commune,
And all of their presents were clustered under one Christmas tree:
Which he had already taken, easy as could be!
Wasting no time, X ran, from barn in the chat,
Leaving chatters asleep, quiet as a cat,
His rocket sled making less noise than a bat.
He had to admit even to himself, he was quite a rat.
He ran to the top of Mount Mysidia…and there he sat.
“Now,” thought he most devilishly,
“What’s the best way to dispose of these, as fun as can be?
Shall I toss them off the top of Mysidia?
Or perhaps vaporize them all, blast them into oblivion?
Or open each, slicing to pieces – a damn good idea!”
He had all the time in the world, that evil reploid.
“But first,” said he, that dastardly droid,
“I’ll listen to the wails of the staffers,
I’ll listen to their crying, their confuséd chatter,
And I’ll laugh, loud long and hard!”
There was no denying it, X really was bad.
And yet…there was no crying, no sounds that were sad.
Remarkably, things in the chat sounded…glad!
There was singing and dancing and talking all fairly,
Staffers getting out of their beds, the bald and the hairy,
And all smiling at one another, bidding each other a Christmas Merry,
Unless they weren’t dyslexic, but that’s another story.
X was puzzled by this, most peculiar behaviour,
And he thought and he thought, and he thought for some more,
“Perhaps Mazrim was right? Nah! That couldn’t be!
But perhaps I was wrong…? May-be…”
He thought for some more – he thought for three hours!
About Christmas and capitalism and the power of the flower,
About how maybe, just maybe, Christmas wasn’t so bad,
And the media just made a mess of it, as it always had,
“Maybe,” he thought, “it means a little bit more?”
And what happened then?
Well damned if I know.
Maybe it was the wind,
Maybe it was the snow,
Maybe it was the fact that he would be accepted by the RPGC Conclave,
If he only was nice, and by the rules behaved.
And it worked! Whatever it was that did this,
For it changed his mind! He felt GOOD on Christmas!
So he rode back to the chat, losing his Maquiladora gear on the way,
bringing all of the gifts, to many hoo-rays!
And that’s the end, yes, there’s no climax to this tale,
If you were expecting one, TOO BAD!, as it would most surely fail…
Heck, this story’s already five pages, with it’s various doings
You want excitement? Go see Lord of the Rings.
Life goes on, yes it does,
In reality and at RPGClassics,
But we want to wish you all a Merry Christmas,
We hope it’s fantastic!