Twas a few days before Christmas and all through the site

…Not a thing was working, even Swiss Servator’s mouse

…The articles written and scheduled with care

…with high hopes STEVE SMITH WILL BE THERE.

…the commenters sat waiting with dread

…at the wonderful horrors within Sugarfree’s head

….and Swiss in his flannel gave the mouse one final tap

…gave up and decided on yet another night cap

…When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

…Swiss sprang from the basement to see what was the matter.

…Away to the gun rack he flew like a hound,

…Racked open the chamber and threw in two rounds

…The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

…Gave the lustre of oversize footprints below,

…When, his narrowing gaze should appear,

…But a 7 foot Sasquatch and a truck filled with cases of beer

….With an over/under Benelli so lively and quick,

…He knew in a moment it must be STEVE SMITH.

…More yappy than beagles the Alderman claimed,

… he hooted and hollered, insisting cops came 

…”Now, tax cattle! Yes, you with the money!

…its mine now, not yours! 5% mor-a that pot full-o honey!

…The property you own is not yours to keep!

…I’ll take my cut now whilst everyone sleeps!

…As dry leaves that before the hate birds all fly,

…When they encounter the city folk, demanding the sky;

…So up to the house-top the hate birds they flew,

…With the truck full of beer, and STEVE SMITH too.

…And then, in a twinkling, Swiss heard on the roof

…The pounding and thudding of two ‘normous hoofs

…As Swiss drew in his head, and was turning around,

…off the porch STEVE SMITH came out with a bound.

…He wore only his fur, from his head to his foot,

…And his bare ass was all tarnished with ashes and soot

…A case of Rauchbier he had flung on his back,

…And he look’d like a peddler just opening his pack

…His eyes — black and dead, unblinking and glassy!

…His butt cheeks were clinching, as if they were gassy!

…His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

…And the beard of his chin covered white with the snow;

…a stump of a dead hiker he held tight in his teeth,

…the entrails encircled his feet like a wreath;

…He had a broad face and not much a midsection

…That left nothing to hide his enormous erection,

…He was stiff and straight, a right jolly ol’ elf,

….And laughed, when Swiss saw him, in spite of himself;

…A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

…Soon let Swiss know he had nothing to dread;

…He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

…And raped that politician, a corrupt, impertinent jerk,

…And laying his finger in a place making Swiss blush,

…And giving a nod, the Alderman’s chimney he rushed;

…STEVE SMITH threw the Alderman’s body and gave Swiss a whistle

…And away they all flew down the street of a thistle.

…But Swiss heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

…”HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, BY HAPPY — MEAN RAPE!”

 

I don’t know what was going on at Swiss’ house, but found a few of these at my door:

Similar flavor profile to the Tiramisu Stout I reviewed last week, except it has the added benefit of being aged in bourbon barrels for a few months.  It works quite well, as espresso is one of those breakfast drinks it is socially acceptable to spike with liquor.  Thick, dense, and finishes like whiskey.   What’s not to like? Drink it to turn down the volume around your insufferable in-laws.  Deschutes Black Butte Imperial Porter:  4.7/5