I got your Christmas card. It's wonderful, adorning my tree, and here's my attempt to respond:
Seven days 'til Christmas in the Principality,
Suu's gone down south, leaving it all to me.
Or so I assume since that time you went north,
and put me in charge as your bus took you forth.
While you're visiting family in the Sunshine State,
I'm defending the turf, Baron EoC the Great.
But there's this one guy whose imminent flight
keeps me tossing, turning, enraged at night!
He's got powerful allies, supporters worldwide,
but damned if I let that save his fat hide.
Awful things of mine are patrolling the air:
dirigibles, airplanes, and sattelites - a pair!
I'll hunt the jolly fucker on his night of fun,
I'll see if he's merry through the sights of my gun.
And I'll don the cap, the sled with such powers,
I'll repair the holes made by sentry towers.
I'll reanimate those steeds that he has to draw him,
their hooves shall ride thunder like they never did for him.
The elves I shall keep to wage war on the Keeblers,
you can have them enslaved as your costume needlers.
But don't think me mad, this isn't power thirst,
it's because, dammit, he fucked with me first.
How dare he violate our precious air space,
he'll learn but good when I violate his face.
I don't think I'll kill him but I will make him quiver,
and I'll sentence him to a life spent in Fall River.
What that means is New England spags are expanding,
we'll have the North Pole to increase our standing.
And it's not the end of my holiday plans,
I'll invade their spaces, kill all their mans.
Let it never be said I'm without ambition,
even if it's not quite Christmas tradition.
So thanks for the card that adorns my tree,
the only one Barony wide it will be.
Hoping your Florida trip is met without frowns,
there's plenty up here,
Eater of Clowns.