DAY 1 ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the village, No creature was stirring, to plunder and pillage; The Watford badge hung by the front door with care, In hopes that St. Elton John soon would be there; The townsfolk were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of Troy Deeney danced in their heads; And Mazza in his 'kerchief decisions to make, Considered the benefits of a winter break, When suddenly noise on the village outskirts, Made the villagers rise in their replica shirts; Keen to feed on their meddling appetites, Into the square shone their annoying phone lights; The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When, what to their wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and two tiny Reindeer, 2 tiny Reindeer... 2... Rein...deer?? More rapid than Werewolves, more sharper they rode, As they gnarled and snarled and pounded the road; "Now Seer! now Guardian! Elf village folk! Head for the high ground, the fiendish are woke; To the rookery, head, don't stumble or fall, Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!” Too late.. too late, the prophecy begun, The villagers cornered with nowhere to run, The warning foretelling that they would return, To plunder the village, to kill maim and burn; No escape for them now from the time of the horn; The terror will reign from the dusk to the dawn; A time of the darkness, their fates intertwined, The time of the Weredeer, the worst of their kind; Antlers like knifeblades, eyes fierce as hellfire, Hooves cracked like thunder and evil desire; Red bloodstained hides from their past raids' demise, The remnants of past villagers guts, lungs and eyes; A hunger for organs, A hunger for brains, A thirst for the blood, until no soul remains; Good vs evil, the day vs night, The eternal fight between darkness and light. Let the battle commence let the villagers fear, Let the last of the poor Elf folk shed their last tear. Let the history note that on this sacred land, The brave little dwarflings would make their last stand....... So the doors to the village awaken and part, The cast members set and the story can start. And villagers go 'bout their daily routines, Unsure what the unsettling quiet all means. Be wary, be sure, of who may be the "others", Your sisters or forum mates, friends or your brothers. Enjoy all the comfort and trust felt within, Before paranoia and lunacy win. A crack in the distance, the setting disturbed, The sound of the Weredeer too easily heard; A hauntingly eerily echoey cry, "You've all been quite good this year, now you will die!".