Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
No liquor was left, not even a drip.
The empties were piled on a heap on the floor
In hopes that another would push them out the door.
The A-Team was nestled all snug in their bunks
While visions of pillaging and credits soothed the old drunks.
I was alone in the mess drinking water not Bourbon
We settled in after a night of drunken disturbin.
When out on the hull arose such a clatter
I stumbled from my chair to see what was the matter.
Off to the bridge I staggered and tripped and nearly died
I opened the door and focused my one sober eye.
The planet was blinding reflecting the sun
It peirced through my brain like a slug from a gun.
When I finally noticed a red blob on the hull
It appeared to be a fat man but I was drunk as hell.
He seemed to be crawling and dragging a sack
I knew he was struggling with that load on his back
The clang of his magboots could be heard through the ship
And the comms crackled with curses and snaps like a whip
"You wankers, you bastards, you dirty and old gits
I'm not doing this for my health you daft old shits"
To the top of the gunports, to the top of the hull
He staggered and crawled, bitchin and cursing and swearing at all.
As dry heaves overcame me and I turned to puke
I lost sight of the old man in the spandex spacesuit
As I stubled and moved to get a better look
His back was to me, and the sack moved and shook.
The airlocked beeped and hissed as it cycled and started
The red sack entered first then it sounded like it farted.
An Old man appeared from under that heap
Crawling out from bottom his beard looked just like a sheep.
He was red faced and huffing and trying to swear
And I laughed to myself and this grey haired old bear
With wide open eyes he twisted his head
And if looks could kill I would surely be dead.
He said not a word but reached into the sack
To pull out a box and threw it around his back
It missed me and slid on the deck at my feet
Just as he turned towards me and shuffled his feet.
He grabbed the bag and turned to walk away
Walking towards the cabins and cursed all the way
And I heard his yell echo off the walls and the decks
"Who locks the doors to an F'in Spaceship at an F'in outpost you Bastards!!! You're lucky I got you anything you miserable old Gits!
Make an old man spacewalk just to get to his bed when he was nice enough to go get more drinks. I'll remember this, Kharmas a Bitch! Next time someone else can go get the loot!"
Merry Christmas from the A-Team!