T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the Wastes,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Dave.
Gore bags were hung by the Bobbleheads with care,
In hopes that no Mutants attacked in pairs.

Nova was nestled, all snug in her bed,
While Burke's corpse spooned her, minus its head.
And I, in my Duster and Trader's cap,
Settled down with Dogmeat for a long winter's nap.

When outside of Megaton there arose such a clatter,
I grabbed my Terrible Shotgun to see what was the matter.
Away to the gates I flew with a flash,
And saw Deputy Weld fall with a crash.

The moon on the ground where no plants could grow
gave the lustre of radiation like Ghouls that glowed.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Radscorpion and Wastelander that cowered in fear.

A Yao Guai appeared, furry and thick,
And I aimed my Shotgun, steady and quick.
Hungry and venomous, the Radscorpion came,
And the Wastelander screamed, calling God's name.

"Oh help me, dear God! I don't want to die!"
He brought up his arms and shielded his eyes.
I pulled the trigger and the muzzle flashed,
And the Radscorpion exploded with a bloody splash.

The Yao Guai leapt, as a bird to the sky,
And met with my Shotgun right through its eyes.
The Wastelander cheered, and hugged me too.
"My savior! My hero! Many thanks to you!"

And then, in a twinkling, his head disappeared,
And a group of Raiders behind him hollered and cheered.
As I drew my Shotgun, turning around,
I fired point blank, sending one to the ground.

He was dressed in leather armor, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of loot was strapped to his back,
And I quickly rummaged through the goods in his sack.

His eyes, how they rolled, bloody and merry,
His cheeks were like roses, red like a cherry.
His ugly little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was white as snow.

The stump of his tongue lay cleaved in his teeth,
And the smoke from my barrel rose like a wreath.
The next one approached, famished and smelly,
And I pumped two rounds into his emaciated belly.

His face twisted in pain, like a vile li'l elf,
And I laughed as he perished, in spite of myself.
His eyes closed and he turned his head,
And soon he expired, cold and dead.

The next one came, going straight to his work,
Fumbled with his knife, then stumbled with a jerk.
I fired my gun right into his nose
And into the air his severed head rose.

I righted Deputy Weld, who was still alive,
Then returned to my house, going inside.
I went back to bed, and as I turned out the light,
I exclaimed "Merry Christmas to all! It's now all alright!"

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Chris Ericson

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