A christmas HHH poem from the Torch site

[Guest bps "The Truth" 21]

"Twas the Night Before Christmas" starring Triple H

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Titan Tower

"Not a T-shirt is selling!" bellowed the man with the power;

The stockholders were calling and UPN gave a scare,

A-Train? Well, Smackdown might soon not be there;

The McMahons had destroyed all the competing Feds,

and tortured that Bischoff for what he had said;

And Steph with her implants, and I with my nose,

Not settled down (Joanie bugged me to propose),

When out in the crowd there arose such a cheer,

I sprang from the sofa to see who was here.

Away to the monitor quickly I flew,

Threw aside RVD and buried Kane too.

The spotlight on the apron of the red and black ring

Gave light to the matches and puppies (for the King),

When, what to my squinting intense eyes do I see?

But a five time World Champion – a man, Booker T,

With a fiery entrance, and a spin on the mat,

and a catchphrase of "Tell me you didn't say that".

No matter the push – the fans stayed the same,

And they hooted, and hollered, then Steph called my name;

"Now, Hunter! Hey, Hunter! Stop staring in space!

Understand I'm McMahon and we own this place!

From the top of the Tron to JR's Black Hat!

And Jeff Hardy's face paint – we even own that"

As fans that before were wild to see Hurricane fly,

but it's now been replaced by just Shawn and I,

So up to the rafters the seats were all bare,

Even a Lesbian love scene couldn't get them to care.

And then, in a moment, I heard from the crowd

A cheering and chanting – incredibly loud.

As I spit my water, and was turning around,

I was approached by Saint Nicholas without making a sound.

He was dressed all in black, with a "What?" on his shirt,

And his clothes were all tarnished from slander and dirt;

A can full of whoop ass – non alcoholic perhaps,

And he looked like a ghost in a camouflaged cap

His face was so wrinkled with small eyes that peered

Just like old Ric Flair with a bushy white beard

His look of disdain showed he was done with my Schick,

From the Denim to the promos to the poor Katie Vick;

He stepped from the shadows (backstage lighting was dark),

to reveal the round face of this Steve Austin Mark;

A video tape he retrieved from his elf,

Popped it into the player – so I could see for myself.

It was I from the old days, sporting "DX" gear

Back in '97 – what a wonderful year;

The old me told stories of advice we should heed,

of elevating young talent – so we all could succeed;

Ripped on Bret Hart, said he deserved what he got,

for Jeopardizing the business to protect his "spot",

So small was I then – not in this massive shape,

then Santa flipped me the bird and ejected the tape;

He sprang to his sleigh, and caught me unaware,

upside the head with a steel-folding chair.

He gave me a crotch-chop, as I regained my sight,

"Happy Christmas to ALL, Hunter – just do what's right."

[Guest cobainwasmurdered]

*Ignores Poem*

 

How the hell did BPS get more posts then me?

 

WHORE!

[Guest bob_barron]

Where were you CWM??

[Guest cobainwasmurdered]

Hospital. Got Stabbed accidently. Better Now.

[Guest alfdogg]

I blame Agnes.

[Guest The Amazing Rando]

I thought we were supposed to blame Flyboy for stuff like this...