HIMS – Big day tomorrow. No better way to set the tone for F3 Prom than a HEATER at Pleasantville. This party is starting at 0445 with a preruck followed by a coupon-less (yes no coupon) workout that will leave you wanting more. Rumors have it that Patriot will show up with more PAX than the Stable to prove their AO of the year dominance deserves a 3rd term.
Show-up to show-out & enjoy some Shakespeare below…
‘Twas the night before F3 Prom, when all through the land
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Jazz Hands;
The flags were planted by the AO with care,
In hopes that St. Worm soon would be there;
The HIMS were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Meter Maid danced in their heads;
And Mom Suit in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a cop seal clap,
When out at the Garden there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed and stepped in Kitty Litter.
Away to the window I flew like a Finkle,
Tore open the shutters and accidentally Tinkle(d).
The Depends on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to PAX’ face below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature clown car, and eight pax in mudgear,
With a little old driver, so lively and firm,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Worm.
More rapid than manatees his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by F3 name;
“Now, DAUBER! now, FOCKER! now, MR KOTTER and PELICAN!
On, BACON! on JEWEL! on, JIMMY NEUTRON and KINGSMAN!
To the top of the hill! to the top of the wall!
Now lung walk! mario! mosey you all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild Honeycomb fly,
When they meet with a coupon, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the stallions they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Worm too.
And then, in a Duckling, I heard on the roof
The squatting and merkins of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was lunging around,
Down the chimney St. Worm came with a bound.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with sweat and soot;
A bundle of coupons he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a Diablo just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they Rip Van Winkle’d! his Limp Bizkit how merry!
His cheeks were like Holy Roller’s, his nose like Little Jerry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like Minnow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as Megan Rapinoe;
The Jolly Rancher he held tight in his teeth,
As the Smoke Stack it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a red hat and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. (this line needed no edits)
He had Bulletin and Plum Bob, his friend Abe Vigoda,
And I laughed when I saw him, despite of Montezuma;
A winkie in his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know he was no F3 dredd;
He spoke way to much, half a**-ed his work,
Delivered his mumblechatter; then turned with a merk(in),
And laying his finger asking who is Tammy Faye Baker,
And giving a nod, drank up some Brown Water; (I gave up at this point)
He sprang to his car, to his HIMS gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard Worm exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
HAPPY F3 PROM TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!
F3 Louisville 