Twas a Few Weeks ‘Til Christmas…
[inline:212]A loyal reader sent us in this college parody of “A Visit from St. Nick,” written by a clever co-ed and based on her campus’s debauchery. We’ve redacted all the names to protect identities, but we’re more than happy to change that if the author doesn’t mind.
UPDATE: The author just sent this in — very chay:
Gentlemen of BroBible –
It has come to my attention that my poem, “Twas a Few Weeks ‘Til Xmas,” has been posted on your site. Thank you. I absolutely adore all things associated with Bros, Lax, Mid-calves, pastel shorts, and pinnies; not to mention chaying. I’m flattered that I made the cut. Being the author, I not only give you permission to, but would be uber-stoked if you were to include my name with the poem.
Twas a few weeks ’til Christmas, when all through the dorm
All the students were puking, a hangover the norm.
The blunts were all rolled by the stoners with care,
In hopes that with others, they would not have to share.
The girls were all blackout snug in their beds,
While visions of [Name Redacted] danced in their heads.
[Big Frat] in [House], and some cold beer on tap,
Who really cares if we take a 7 pm nap?
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Lights up the path as to [House] we go.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a room full of [Frat Guys], and shitloads of beer?!
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
He goes by [Bro Laxer], and carries a lax stick.
More rapid than eagles his frat bros they came,
They whistled, and shouted, and spit their frat game
“Now Smirnoff! now, Svedka! now, Popov, I’m Blitzen!
On, Bud Light! On, Coors Light! In Captain’s put mix in!
To the top of the bar! Dance up on the wall!
Now chug away! Chug away! Chug away all!”
As dry leaves that before our drunken eyes fly,
When met with an obstacle, try not to die.
So up to the hill-top us freshman we flew,
As we walk up the hill, trying not to spew.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard a big “oof!”
The faceplanting and falling of each drunken goof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the hill security came with a bound.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,
And in [House] lay the freshman f*ckers he put.
A bundle of citations he wrote, that ass-crack,
Overcompensating for his petite and sterile nut-sack.
“Fuck it!” we said as we skip back to [House], so merry
Our cheeks were like roses, our noses like cherries!
Our droll little mouths was drawn up like a bow,
Beer jackets we wore, too drunk to feel snow.
The stump of a blunt we held tight in our teeth,
And the smoke it encircled our heads like a wreath.
Fuck freshman fifteen, no little round bellies,
Gimme some cheesestix, [redacted] is smelly!
The blunts chubby and plump, makes us jolly as an elf,
We laugh at security, in spite of ourselves!
A wink of our eyes and a twist of his head,
Soon we were stoned, “See ya later!” we said.
We spoke not a word, but went straight to our work,
And filled all our bellies with munchies, shut up, jerk.
And laying our finger aside of our nose,
And giving a nod, up the nostrils drugs rose!
We sprang to our feet, frat bros give us whistles,
And away we all flew like the down of a thistle.
We could be heard exclaiming, with security out of sight,
“Happy binge-drinking to all, and to all a drunk night!” –Amanda Goddard “