T'was a month before Christmas,
and all throught the land.
Shakers were shaking,
the time was at hand.

Brand-X cars were stung,
by the black striped machine.
The ricers lie broken,
their clocks had been cleaned.

Exhaust had been hung,
the tips placed with care.
The hunt had begun,
we're loaded for bear.

When at the next light
there arose such a clatter,
I rolled down the window,
to see what's the matter.
A Civic with stright pipes,
its' body in tatters.

His front tires smoked
as the light changed from red.
In the blink of an eye
I'd put this one to bed.

The scoop and the stripes
had spoken their piece.
The thrum of the pipes
were the sound of a beast.

As I put it to bed
at the end of the run.
I thought "Lightning" owners
should have this much fun"

 

That is damn funny, and if you wrote it yourself than I'm impressed. Even if retail has instilled a great hatred of X-mas in me. Always have to love a good kill story, or poem.

 

good poem! I'm saving it, did you write it?