"In a effort to bring some holiday cheer to the blog, I wrote you a poem."
How MikeB Grabbed the Guns
-By TS
Every person down in Boomville liked guns a lot...
But MikeB, who lived just north of Rome, Did NOT!
MikeB hated guns, and the whole hunting season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.
It could be, perhaps, that his shorts were too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his brain was two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason, His brain or his Fruit-of-the-Looms,
He stood there on NRA Convention Eve, hating those gunloons,
Staring down from his pedestal with a sour, statist frown,
At the blued and nickeled steel below in their town.
For he knew every gun owner down in Boomville below,
Was busy now, hand-loading nine-millimeter ammo.
"And they're loading their clips!" he snarled with a sneer,
"Tomorrow is the convention! It's practically here!"
Then he growled, as he nervously devised his tactics,
"I MUST find some way to disarm these filthy lying fanatics!"
For Tomorrow, he knew, all the gun girls and boys,
Would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their “toys”!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise!
Noise! Noise! Noise!
That's one thing he hated! The NOISE!
NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the gun owners, young and old, would sit down to a feast.
And they'd feast! And they'd feast! And they'd FEAST!
FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!
They would feast on their hunted animals, and rare-cooked roast beast.
Which was something this plant-eater couldn't stand in the least!
And THEN they'd do something he liked least of all!
Every gun owner down in Boomville, the tall and the small,
Would stand close together, with goggles and ear muffs for muting.
They'd stand guns-in-hand. And the gun owners would start shooting!
They'd shoot! And they'd shoot! And they'd SHOOT!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
And the more MikeB thought of these freedom lovers having their fun
The more MikeB thought, "I must take away every gun!"
"Why, for sixty-one years I've put up with it now!"
"I MUST stop these dangerous lawful gun owners! But HOW?"
Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
MIKEB GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" MikeB laughed in his throat.
And he put on a ski mask and a black coat.
And he chuckled, and clucked, "These nuts make gun theft too easy!"
"I’ll snatch the unsecured guns from their night stands- easy peasy!"
"All I need is some help..." MikeB looked around.
But since antis are scarce, there was none to be found.
Did that stop the old grump Mike? No! MikeB simply said,
"If I can't find someone reasonable, I'll get Jadegold instead!"
So he called his blog partner, Jade. Then he took a red MDA shirt.
And it tied it around his neck, tight enough to hurt.
Then he loaded some bags and some sacks that were empty and old,
On a ramshackle sleigh and he hitched up Jadegold.
Then MikeB said, "Giddap!" and the sleigh started down,
Toward the homes where the gun owners lay asnooze in their town.
All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.
All the gun owners were all dreaming sweet dreams of gun care.
When he came to the first little house on the square.
"This is stop number one," the old liberal hissed,
And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist.
Then he slid down the chimney, as tight as could be.
But, if Santa could do it, then so could MikeB.
He got stuck only once, for a moment or two.
Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue.
Where the gun owner’s magazines all laid in a row.
"These high-capacity clips," he grinned, "are the first things to go!"
Then he slithered and slunk, so as not to cause an alarm,
Around the whole room, and he took every arm!
ARs and AKs! Shotguns! Rugers!
Sig Sauers! Blunderbusses! Scoped rifles! And Lugers!
And he stuffed them in bags. Then MikeB, very nimbly,
Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney!
Then he slunk to the safe, and cracked it open too.
And emptied it out as he thought, “that was too easy to do!”
He cleaned out their fridge, leaving nothing to dine,
Why, MikeB even took their last bottle of Hoppe’s number nine!
Then he stuffed everything up the chimney without fault.
"And NOW!" grinned MikeB, "I will stuff up the vault!"
And MikeB grabbed the safe, and he started to shove,
When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, and he saw a small gun nut!
Little Cindy-Lou Boom, in front of her bedroom door- not shut.
MikeB had been caught by this tiny gun owner’s daughter,
who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water.
She stared at MikeB and said, "You’re stealing our guns, why?”
"Why are you taking our protection? WHY?"
But, you know, that old hippie could con and was and so slick,
He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!
"Why, my sweet little tot," the gun grabber lied,
"Guns do more harm than good, since kids like you died."
"So I'm taking them for your own good, my dear."
"If you ever need help, the police will come here."
And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted her head,
And he said “I’ll call CPS if you’re not back in bed.”
And when Cindy-Lou Boom went to bed with her cup,
He went to the chimney and stuffed the safe up!
Then the last thing he took was a toy pop gun- anything that can fire!
Then he went up the chimney, himself, the old liar.
And for protection he left a sign saying “gun free zone”, hung by a wire.
Then he did the same thing to the other gun owners' houses
Leaving nothing that can protect them even from mouses!
It was quarter past dawn... All the gun owners, still a-bed,
All the gun owners, still asnooze when he packed up his sled,
Packed it up with their guns! The barrel shrouds! The sliding stocks!
The ammo! And the holsters! The targets! The Glocks!
Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mt. Crumpit,
He rode with his load to the tiptop to dump it!
"PoohPooh to the gun owners!" with a mocking scoff.
"They're finding out now that they’ll be better off!"
"They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!"
"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two,
Then the crybaby gun owners down in Boomville will all cry BooHoo!"
"That's a noise," grinned MikeB, "That I simply MUST hear!"
So he paused. And MikeB put his hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low. Then it started to grow.
It was the sound of government black helicopters swooping in!
Without arms to defend, there’s no chance the people could win.
He stared down at Boomville! MikeB popped his eyes!
Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every gun owner down in Boomville, the tall and the small,
Was mowed down by the law- one by one they started to fall!
The guns were stopping tyranny from coming! IT CAME!
Just like the gun owners said, it came just the same!
And MikeB, with his leftist-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood baffling and puzzling: "How could it be so?"
"They came without warning! They came without a warrant!"
"They came with guns, boxcars, even killed the compliant"
And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.
Then MikeB thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe guns," he thought, "do more than just gore."
"Maybe guns...perhaps...secure people quite a bit more!"
And what happened then? Well...in Boomville they say,
That MikeB's small brain grew three sizes and now loves the 2A!
And the minute his personality wasn’t uptight,
He loaded up some guns and armed himself right,
And he bought lots of guns as the truth was revealed,
And he, HE HIMSELF, MikeB, now even carries concealed!
