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Thread: December Entry: T'was da night afore whipslash

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    Jun 2008
    St. Charles, Missouri, United States

    Post December Entry: T'was da night afore whipslash

    No idea quite yet but this is what I'm thinkin about...start with an orcish poem and go from there.

    T'was da night afore Whipslash, when all tru da caves
    Not a creature was stirrin, not even da slaves.
    Da socks was all hung by da firepit with care,
    In hopes dat Taint Knucklesmash soon would be dere.

    Da chitlins were nestled all snug in deir hoods
    While unseen mouses ate up my foods.
    And mamma in her chainmail, and I in my plate,
    Had just settled our feet for a long winter’s wait.

    When out in da hall dere arose such a rumpus
    I sprang from da bunk to see what was da ruckus.
    Away to da door I flew like a flash,
    Tore open da sucka with gnarl and gnash.

    Da light on da floor was soft and low
    Gave da look of midnight to stones below.
    When, what to my blearry eyes would behold,
    But a min-a-ture skiff an some tiny kobolds.

    Wid a lil ole driver, so covered in muck,
    I knew in a moment it must be Taint Knuck.
    More rapid dan griffons his coursers dey came,
    And he coughed and grunted and called dem by name!

    "Now Gasher! Now, Masher! Now, Lancer and Nix'em!
    On, Vomit! On, Stupid! On Goner an Splitz'em!
    To da back of da cave! To da top of da Hall!
    Now smash away! Smash away! Smash away all!"

    As dry leaves dat before da wild tornado fly,
    When dey meet wid a wall, swirl up to da sky.
    So up to da cave-mouth da coursers dey ran,
    Wid da skiff full of skulls; ribs, legs, an hands.

    And den, in a twinklin, I heard on the ceilin
    Da gruntin an snortin an all of da wheezin.
    As I drew in me head, an was turnin aroun,
    Down da flue Taint Knucklesmash came with a hound.

    He was dressed all in steel, from his toe to his thinker
    An his plate was all tarnished an rusted an chinkered.
    A bundle of bacon he carried in his paw,
    An he looked like an ogre, just openin his maw.

    His skin-it was wrinkled, his warts were all hairy
    His cheeks were all scarred, with blotches like cherries!
    His sour lil mouth was drawn down in a grimace,
    In da beard on his chin I could see he ate spinach.

    Da hilt of a sword was sheathed at his hip,
    An he carried a knife an also a whip.
    He had a hump-back and a big ole belly,
    He was really quite dirty, an also quite smelly!

    He was shabby an fat, a right grouchy ole orc,
    An I grinned when I saw dat he brung me pitchfork!
    A tic in his eye an a twitch in his ear,
    Soon gave me to know I had nuttin to fear.

    He spoke not a word, but had a hideous smirk
    He filled all da socks, den turned with a lurch.
    His chore now done an feelin quite spent
    He gave a burp an up da flue he went!

    He limped to his skiff, to his team gave a whistle,
    An away dey all ran like an elven-shot missile.
    But I heard him exclaim, ‘fore he got to da distance,
    "Crappy Whipslash to all, and to all a good-riddance!"
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    Last edited by Ascension; 12-13-2009 at 10:42 PM.
    If the radiance of a thousand suns was to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the Mighty One...I am become Death, the Shatterer of worlds.
    -J. Robert Oppenheimer (father of the atom bomb) alluding to The Bhagavad Gita (Chapter 11, Verse 32)

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