'Twas the night before Christmas in the slums of Midgar
And not a creature was stirring in Tifa's old bar.
(They were drinking, carousing, what a hullabaloo!
But stirring drinks? No. That's for the barkeep to do.
And the barkeep, well, he was passed out in the back,
So not a creature was stirring. You got that, Jack?)
And Barret, he hung by the chimney and swore
Nothing that's Shinra would come through that door.
Downstairs, Marlene was snug in her bed,
Visions of presents looming large in her head.
And Tifa in tank top and Aeris in her dress
Had just started to tackle the ungodly mess
(For drinkers, you know, are rather uncouth guys
And when they're plastered, my, how the beer flies!
Tifa knows that's the downside of owning a bar.
But heck, this is the city, and that's how things are.)
When out on the street there arose such a shrieking
That the bar became silent, save for the taps leaking.
Across to the door Barret flew, yelling loud,
'I TOLD YOU TO STOP THAT, YOU DAMN IDIOT, CLOUD!'
The moon lit the street with a sickly pale glow
Revealing two figures on the cobbles below.
There was Cloud, laying prone, his blood gleaming red
And Vincent, unhappy, with a gun to his head.
(To Cloud's head, that is. I didn't mean to confuse you.
And if you're a Vince fan, I hope I didn't lose you.)
'WHAT TH' HELL YOU DOIN'?' Barret cried quick.
And Vince holstered his gun with a practiced wrist flick.
'He was drunk. He was angry. He wanted to fight.
He dragged me out here to show me his might.'
(Vincent is talking... I hope that was clear.
Geez, this is bad. Maybe -I- need a beer.)
'SO YOU SHOT 'IM?' bellowed Barret. ' GOOD FOR YOU, KID!'
'No, I didn't,' said Vincent. 'He just thinks I did.
I hit him on the temple with the butt of my gun
And he was out like a light. So much for his fun.'
And they grabbed Cloud by the ankles to haul him into the bar
When a merry shout was heard from somewhere, not far.
'Now Reno! Now Rufus! Now Don Corneo!
On, Tseng and on, Elena! To Seventh Heaven we go!'
And from the roof came a strange sound that made us all stare,
Like half of Shinra wheezing and gasping for air.
A gleaming wagon was parked up atop the old place
Harnessed to the poor Turks (all red in the face).
And standing tall in the wagon, dressed oddly in red,
Was Santa Sephiroth. Who they all thought was dead.
(We thought the same 'bout Rufus, the Don and the Turks.
It all goes to show you how a good villain lurks.
And even a bad one, or one quite mediocre;
Not one was dead, really. Not a single damn croaker.
Now that I think of it, Aeris should be dead too...
But it's MY bad poem, so what can you do?)
Sephiroth had discarded his standard black leathers
And dressed all in red like a robin's breast feathers.
(Bad rhyme, I noticed. You may as well curse
'Cause from here on out it can only get worse.)
With slight touches of white fur, there, there, and THERE,
and Christmas lights twinkled, braided into his hair.
His sword was new-sheathed in a brilliant green scabbard.
And he was SMILING. Their gasts, they were flabbered.
(The gasts of AVALANCHE, whatever gasts are.
I've been reaching for rhymes, but that went too far.
If anyone's still reading this strange, awful tripe,
Be assured no other couplet will be NEARLY that ripe.)
He beamed down at the terrorists with their jaws all agape
While carols, they caroled from some hidden tape.
'Be assured, dear friends, that I mean you no harm!
So be merry! Be peaceful! There's no cause for alarm!
My mother may be alien, strange, cruel and fey,
But she loves Christmas too, in her own crazy way.
So I put down my sword (well, it'll stay in its sheath)
And I come to give presents to all those beneath!'
Well, about this time poor Cloud came around
And he leapt to his feet in one mighty bound!
(Then he fell down again. The poor guy was drunk.
Rest assured, though, readers, he knew something stunk.)
'Sephiroth! How dare you!' cried Cloud, as he staggered upright
'How dare you attack us on this, this one night?
I'm drunk! I'm exhausted! I hate Christmas shopping!
And Tifa LOVES Christmas, so she's kept me hopping!
Get gone! Get out! Get back in your sleigh!
I won't let you ruin my one drunken day!'
Just then, something hit Cloud's head with a shatter.
Tifa had come outside with a drink to see what was the matter.
As Cloud hit the pavement, stunned by the glass,
Ringed by the shards, knocked onto his ass,
Stained with the gin that was Tifa's best drink,
He heard Tifa yell, 'Cloud! Don't you THINK?
Christmas is about loving! It's all about caring!
It's about peace, and calm, and sharing!
If Sephiroth's come all this way to be nice,
Then we can accept that... WATCH OUT FOR THE ICE!'
Cloud hit the pavement. Is that three times, or four?
Clutching his head, he cursed the bar pour.
(A bar pour, for those of you innocent yet,
Is the cheap brand of beer you wouldn't drink on a bet.
It's the beer that you get if you don't specify.
But poor Cloud was broke, so it was bar pour, or cry.)
But Tifa, eyes glowing, she faced Sephy's wagon
And yelled, 'Hey Sephy Claus! Come down for a flagon!'
But Sephiroth smiled and said 'Sorry, no way!
These Turks will run off if I leave the sleigh!
But here are presents for everyone! A new mop for Cid!
Some bullets for Barret, and a doll for his kid!
Something frilly and skimpy for Aeris, my love,
And for Tifa, dear Tifa, a new martial glove!
Some falsies for Yuffie! For Vince, a new gun!
For Nanaki, that great cat, a hairpin! What fun!
A bagful of materia for everyone's stocking!
And for Cloud... yes, dear Cloud... I have something... quite shocking.'
The night, it grew quiet. All eyes turned to Cloud.
Who waited all terrified to be thus endowed.
'You're about to be killed!' his drunken brain cried.
'Get off the damn street and find some place to hide!'
But before he could get himself together and flee,
A voice from the back cried, 'Hey! What about me?'
'Cait Sith!' laughed Sephiroth! 'You're just so greedy!
Wait your turn, kitty, you're not very needy!
But since you're here, you silly old hog,
Have some new dice! And a vest, for your Mog!'
Then he turned to the Shinra that were harnessed so tight,
And he beamed at poor Reeve, who blushed very bright.
'I know that that's you, Reeve, that strange robot cat,
That rides around on a stuffed moogle, quite fat.
But you needn't worry, nor need you shrink,
For this is Christmas, and I forgive you, I think.'
And with that he turned back to the small crowd below
And yelled 'Cloud! Oh, dear Cloud! Oh, where did you go?
Oh, there you are! Quit hiding down there!
It's useless, you know. You can't hide that hair.
So stand up straight! Quit pretending you're short!
Don't you want to see your present, old sport?'
(Yes, that was bad, and I'm sorry, I am.
This poem is huge, and Sephy's a ham.
So maybe the rhyme scheme isn't that great
But you try to make rhymes for two hours straight.)
'This is Christmas, Cloud! I forgive you! I swear!
You killed me, I know, but that's not here nor there!
Now see what I've got for you in my sack?
That's right, Cloud! I've brought you... your old friend, Zack!'
'Zack!' yelled Cloud, startled. 'Is he not dead either?'
'Dead? Ha!' said Zack. 'See, I just took a breather!'
So Zack leapt from the roof, from that ledge to this,
And he gave Cloud a hug and gave Tifa a kiss.
(And another, and a fondle, and... to go on would be cruel.
Tifa may be Cloud's girlfriend but Zack's nobody's fool.)
And Sephiroth beamed at the large happy crowd,
Opening their presents and exclaiming out loud,
When Barret turned to him and yelled 'HEY FOO'!
YOU GOT ME A PRESENT SO HERE'S ONE FOR YOU!'
And a small wrapped package flew from his hand
Into the wagon it gently did land.
And Sephiroth pounced with an expression of glee,
And ripped off the wrapping paper, one, two and three!
'Oh Barret!' he cried in a voice high and cracked.
'A materia! A large one! And my, it's quite black!
Thank you, my friend, now I near my goal!
I'll take my leave, and... what?! It's just COAL!'
The crowd burst out laughing, and Sephy did too.
At any other time, you know what he'd do;
But this was Christmas, and it was a joke.
So Sephiroth laughed until his voice was a croak.
Then Aeris climbed up with her arms full of gifts,
A new harness, some new boots (with discreet little lifts)
A large bottle of mousse and a sword-care kit,
A big box of cookies and a thong that just fit.
A large bottle of vodka to keep out the chill,
And a few of those presents that could maim or kill.
Meanwhile, buxom Tifa, with her face oddly set,
Said to Cloud, 'Honey, I don't want you to fret.
But we're over. I'm leaving you. Have fun with Zack.'
'Hey!' said Cloud. 'What did you mean by that crack?'
'Just what I said,' muttered Tifa, all tart.
'But the fact is that you don't have a heart.
Christmas is for sharing, and you don't give a damn.
So I'm leaving with Sephy. Yes, that I am.'
(That line came out worse than when we were rehearsin'.
But forgive me, I decided that we needed a little more cursin'.)
'With Sephiroth? But Tifa!' cried Cloud, all aghast.
'And here I had finally found you at last!
Must you go? Can't you stay? I can change! This I swear!
I'll learn to like Christmas! I'll find red to wear!
Please don't leave with that heinous ol' villain!
I'll have Christmas spirit when the weather is chillin'!'
Then he grabbed the materia from his sword right quick,
And hung them in his hair, hoping that'd do the trick.
And his tree impression had not gone to waste,
For Tifa looked at him, a small smile on her face.
'Maybe you CAN change, Cloud, my blond dove.
So I'll give you a year to learn to love what I love.'
(Again, that was bad. Cloud's nobody's bird.
But rhyming is hard, so pretend that you heard
Something special and proper in that awful line's stead,
And you and I will pretend that that's what Tifa said.)
So, arm in arm, they waved goodbye to the sleigh,
And Sephiroth turned to the Turks in a menacing way.
'Now, my reindeer, my Shinra, my Turks, we shall fly!
To the top of the city! To the top of the sky!'
But Tseng turned around, his long face all pale.
And said, 'Sephiroth, kill us, or put us in jail,
But we can't fly! We're just people like you!
If you tell us to fly I don't know what we'll do!'
And Sephiroth cracked from under the strain.
He screamed, with his voice all loud and insane,
'You'll FLY if I say so! You're mine, do you hear?
Now shut your damn mouths and make like reindeer!
You'll FLY! This I swear! Now dash away, pup!
Dash away, dash away! Hiya! GIDDYUP!'
And he fixed those poor Turks with a look so damn scary
That they leaped forward like reindeer, only not quite so hairy.
But they were right, he was wrong, and the wagon, it fell.
And a cold alley waited to send them to Hell.
And Sephiroth cried (as he crashed, out of luck)
'Happy Christmas to all! And to all... holy FUCK!'
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