‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through Flag,
Not a creature was stirring, not even an anonfag.
The cans were hung by the e-meter with care,
In the hopes that LRon would reincarnate there.
The Sea Orgers were not all snug in their beds
they were continuing their work day with visions of freedom dancing in their heads
DM with scotch bottle and his dog in a sailor cap
Anticipating their mandatory gifts with Laurisse in his lap
And up on the roof there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter…
Ah, just another sea ogre up there with no safety harness…
I suppose if they start now it should be finished for summer opening.
The moon on the poop deck of the cling of asbestos
Gave the smell of poison to the Sea Cadets below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appease,
But a Rolls Royce vehicle, and eight beaten staffies,
With a little short midget, so hot-tempered and average,
I knew in a moment it must be Miscavige.
More vapid than L. Ron his tantrums they came,
And he whined, and shouted, and cursed them by name;
“Now, faggots! now, bitches! now, worthless to cinder!
On, Moxon! on Tom! on, Rathbun and Rinder!
To where Shelly is held! let someone else take the fall!
Now dash away! cash away! cash away all!”
I ripped open his envelope and pulled out the card,
Upon it was written “You suck cock on Hollywood Boulevard”