I know its a day early but I don't know if I'll have time tomorrow to get on the computer. As usual, I tried to mock as many members as possible in a funny way. You guys always make me laugh so hopefully you'll find a little humor in this.
Twas the night before Christmas in MM Land,
I'm home all alone, just me and my hand.
Just to be clear, its a mouse in my grip,
I'm at the keyboard, read to quip.
Some members are huddled, around a fire tonight,
With visions of antlers, in their sites.
When the sun goes down, they'll hit the road,
In hopes of finding, that record book toad.
When back in the outhouse, there arose such a clatter,
It was just Bucksnort, he'd gotten the splatters.
The brew and bear meat, had him ill,
He was bloated and leaking, against his will.
The moon was now bright, on a blanket of snow,
They?d leave without him, it was time to go.
To everyone?s surprise, but who should appear,
It was Kilo and Eel, the seniors were here.
With little old men, so slow and frail,
The others knew, this hunt might fail.
But one by one, they appeared without shame,
Beanman farted & hollared, and called them by name!
"Now Founder!, now Rugburn!, Roy and ShowCat!
On Zeker!, on Boz! on TAG and Catch.
There were 6 in the cab and 8 on hood,
Crammed in the bed, dozens stood.
They had lights on their guns, the hunt was on,
They?d road shoot animals, from now till dawn.
There were turtles to kill, and elk and deer,
Everything out there, should live in fear.
When the sun came up, they were back at the club house,
Known only to members, but nary a spouse.
This place we don't speak of, its on the down low,
It has a password, its secret you know.
The warden showed up, somehow he knew,
With a mouthful of donuts, and a hot cup of brew.
He was a man with an ego, surly and husky,
He?d go after these boys, just like Sandusky.
He spoke few words, and went straight to work,
With the trail of brass, he knew where to lurk.
?I have a hunch, I'll play the race card,
The shooters in question, must be Utard.?
In the fresh white snow, a clue they did leave,
Written in urine, was ?in Joe Smith we believe?.
The writer and ink, were not one in the same,
Which led him to believe, at least two were to blame.
1911 showed up, in his bashed in ride,
He?d been called out, from his double wide.
He got out the cuffs, then a stun gun,
Then all the guilty, began to run.
They ran for their trucks, then a voice from afar,
Wiz yelled out, ?Dude where's my car??
It was long gone, like his card from Cabela?s,
The guy ain?t to smart, now is he fellas?
They fled in their belchers, with choking exhaust,
Hoping the lawmen, would soon get lost.
But not far ahead, a road block they'd see,
Doyle and his crew, there was no place to flee.
There would be no jail, a deal was made,
Under the table, there was money layed.
A dirty judge, a greedy Fed,
The face of justice, was crimson red.
It's getting late, and to my aggrevation,
You might guess, its off to the gas station.
I've got to go out, to pick up my wife,
But to all Merry Christmas, to all good night..
Happy Holidays guys
Twas the night before Christmas in MM Land,
I'm home all alone, just me and my hand.
Just to be clear, its a mouse in my grip,
I'm at the keyboard, read to quip.
Some members are huddled, around a fire tonight,
With visions of antlers, in their sites.
When the sun goes down, they'll hit the road,
In hopes of finding, that record book toad.
When back in the outhouse, there arose such a clatter,
It was just Bucksnort, he'd gotten the splatters.
The brew and bear meat, had him ill,
He was bloated and leaking, against his will.
The moon was now bright, on a blanket of snow,
They?d leave without him, it was time to go.
To everyone?s surprise, but who should appear,
It was Kilo and Eel, the seniors were here.
With little old men, so slow and frail,
The others knew, this hunt might fail.
But one by one, they appeared without shame,
Beanman farted & hollared, and called them by name!
"Now Founder!, now Rugburn!, Roy and ShowCat!
On Zeker!, on Boz! on TAG and Catch.
There were 6 in the cab and 8 on hood,
Crammed in the bed, dozens stood.
They had lights on their guns, the hunt was on,
They?d road shoot animals, from now till dawn.
There were turtles to kill, and elk and deer,
Everything out there, should live in fear.
When the sun came up, they were back at the club house,
Known only to members, but nary a spouse.
This place we don't speak of, its on the down low,
It has a password, its secret you know.
The warden showed up, somehow he knew,
With a mouthful of donuts, and a hot cup of brew.
He was a man with an ego, surly and husky,
He?d go after these boys, just like Sandusky.
He spoke few words, and went straight to work,
With the trail of brass, he knew where to lurk.
?I have a hunch, I'll play the race card,
The shooters in question, must be Utard.?
In the fresh white snow, a clue they did leave,
Written in urine, was ?in Joe Smith we believe?.
The writer and ink, were not one in the same,
Which led him to believe, at least two were to blame.
1911 showed up, in his bashed in ride,
He?d been called out, from his double wide.
He got out the cuffs, then a stun gun,
Then all the guilty, began to run.
They ran for their trucks, then a voice from afar,
Wiz yelled out, ?Dude where's my car??
It was long gone, like his card from Cabela?s,
The guy ain?t to smart, now is he fellas?
They fled in their belchers, with choking exhaust,
Hoping the lawmen, would soon get lost.
But not far ahead, a road block they'd see,
Doyle and his crew, there was no place to flee.
There would be no jail, a deal was made,
Under the table, there was money layed.
A dirty judge, a greedy Fed,
The face of justice, was crimson red.
It's getting late, and to my aggrevation,
You might guess, its off to the gas station.
I've got to go out, to pick up my wife,
But to all Merry Christmas, to all good night..
Happy Holidays guys
