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Twas The Night Before X-Mas
'Twas the night before X-mas when all through the place,
not a creature was stirring, not one from space.
The X's were taped to the window with care
in hope that the mysterious, tall, dark man soon would be there.
The unsolved X-Files were snug, all nestled in their folders, awaiting the next time they were needed by Mulder.
Scully in her bed and Mulder on his futon,
they had just settled down, from their meeting with MUFON.
When outside the door, there arose such a clatter,
Mulder sprang from his futon to see what was the matter.
Away to the door in such a hurry he runs, that he breaks his cell phone and drops his gun.
He unbolted the door and threw off the chain.
When what to his wondering eyes did appear,
a mumbling Frohike, something about Skinner with 8 alien reindeer.
With the smell on his breath, his hand clutching a glass,
Mulder knew in a moment Frohike was drunk off his a**.
Frohike fell on the floor and shouted in vain,
"The mutants! The parasites! The government crap!
It's Ratboy, I tell you. It's Krycek, he's back!
From the depths of the sewers to the government halls,
kill them! Kill them! Kill them all!"
As Mulder took a step back and drew in a sigh,
Frohike crawled on the floor to get inside.
Covered in beer from his head to his toe,
his clothes looked like something a bum wouldn't own.
Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out some stuff,
saying "Be sure to tell Scully that I am still buff."
He got to his feet, standing straight and tall,
and slowly made his way out to the hall.
Mulder heard him exclaim as he stumbled on out,
"Merry X-Mas to all! That was some really good stout!"
Along the shores of the Mississippi River, especially along the Louisiana coastline, bonfires are lit on Christmas eve. Their purpose is to guide the way for Father Christmas
Christmas is a race to see which gives out first - your money or your feet.
--Unknown
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