Twas’ the night before the night before Christmas,
And all through the Café,
All the staffers were working
At least, that’s what we told Carl, anyway.
The staffers were typing,
Hunched over their keys,
Elzie was missing,
God only knows where she could be.

The chatters were stunned,
All screwed up in the head,
Because to their eyes,
The chat was just…dead.
But I in my bedroom,
And the rest of us too,
Had all settled in,
For a night of flinging poo.

When suddenly in the staff room,
There arose a clatter
Carl had fired everyone,
A seemingly regular matter.

A topic we’d chosen
For the new After Hours to be posted later,
Just Like Thanksgiving-only Christmas,
(God we’re creative…uh…need a rhyme...Alligator!)
When suddenly,
What to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Aston Martin,
Pulled by eight tiny yoshis.
(Fuck this rhyme scheme)

Each had been named,
Silver thinking it appropriate that he should get to whip them,
Had named them after all the staffers:

“On Carl, On Bryan
On Elzie and Twomy,
On Marlow and Marcus,
On Bryan and Vesna,
On Frozen and Joe,
On Chris and Tom.”

And appropriately, I saw Kevin,
At the front of the pack.
Nose glowing bright red,
Passed out on his back.

He didn’t leave gifts,
Nor candy or treats.
But instead left us a note:
“I go away for one week and you guys do no FUCKING updates!”

And I heard him exclaim,
As he drove out of sight:
“Merry Christmas to All!
/me Fires everyone!”

Matt Marlow