The Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, at old Mossberg’s shack
He opened the door to the spare room out back
The weapons he stored there, from the floor to the walls
Home invasion? He thought….you fucks don’t have the balls!
He hefted his chest rig, it was stocked full and ready
And the shot gun felt good all balanced and steady
The claymores, the C-4, and the DetCord was there
He got his whiskey, and some bacon, and he flopped on his chair.
The fireplace was blazing, and giving off heat
And he took off his boots to give warmth to his feet
He tried counting his ammo a while in his head
But he laughed and said fuck it, I’ll just count the dead
He had some surprises he kept out in the shop
Like a surplus armored scout car with a cannon on top
It had four inch plate armor and six run flat tires
And a 30mm chain gun with full auto fire
A rare 80mm mortar with high explosive rounds
It wasn’t very practical, he just loved the sounds
With rolls of razor wire for perimeter defense
To kill any muzz caught there, cuz they’re that fucking dense
A shiny Ma Deuce with some API rounds
To make sure that they rot where they’re shot on the ground
A brand new Dillon Aero, the vaunted mini gun
But his 20mm Vulcan was way much more fun
But out in the compound there arose such a clatter
Mossberg racked in a round to see what was the matter
When what to his wondering eyes did appear
A man bun sporting soy boy and his friend Trent the queer.
“You help us!” cried soy boy, “our Prius won’t go!”
“I just spilled my latte and got stuck in the snow!”
“Now my Twenty is triggered and you can see that it’s sleeting”
“You WILL help us old man, we have an antifa meeting!”
“There’s Buffy who’s waiting and Moonbeam and Biff
And that dreamy George Soros, omg he makes me stiff”
“There’s mutants and trannys and a girl with no hair
We demand that you help us, we’ve just GOT to be there!”
The instant he said that, Mossy wasn’t amused
He instantly thought now which gun should I use?
Then antifa snotflakes screeched and begged at the sight
Of his 590 shotgun as it gleamed in the light.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Gave a luster of midday to the two bodies below
For once climate change simply wasn’t a factor
Cuz the antifa pussies were in the bucket of the tractor.
“How dare you?” Screams Greta, that bitch is so crass
Nail her tongue to the floor, run a tree up her ass
Go back to your Sweden! Go back to your hovel!
I’ve got three feet of global warming I still have to shovel!
So soy boy was buried along with his bitch
Along the fence in a field in a freshly dug ditch
The meeting they were going to would soon miss this pair
But old Mossberg was laughing, he just didn’t care.
He went back to his cabin all done with his work
Tomorrow he’d bury the car of this jerk
But now it was quiet and peaceful serene
As the snow floated down and it covered that scene.
Old Mossberg sat down and he poured another drink
He’d remembered to wash the blood off in the sink
And I heard him exclaim and I know that he’s right
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!