Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the tower
Hans Gruber was stirring, he had all the power.
The explosives were placed on the roof with cares,
in hopes that bearer bonds soon would be theirs.
The hostages were nervous with thoughts of dread,
while visions of bullets went through their heads.
And Al Powell in his squad car, and I in bare feet,
had just wondered if ever our kids would ever meet.
When out on the roof there arose such chatter,
Karl sprang from the office to see what was the matter.
Away to the elevator I hid in the shaft,
He shot holes in the duct it caused quite a draft.
The shine on the walls by the great spotlight
gave the terrorist pause, as it was much too bright.
When, what do the cops now happily boast,
an armored RV, but the quarterback is now toast.
With a little C4, so explosive and insane,
Hans knew in a moment it must be McClane.
More rapid than bullets his cohorts they came,
and he screamed, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Karl! Now, Henrich! Now, Fritz and Marco!
On, Uli! On, Tony! On Theo and Franco!
To the top of the roof! To the top of the wall!
Now run away! Run away! Kill them all!"
As the FBI leaves in that wild helicopter fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the rooftop the hostages flew,
with a chopper full of guns, and the two Johnson’s too.
He was dressed in an undershirt, with nothing on his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A machine gun he had all flung on his back,
and he hooked up the fire hose, by opening the pack.
His eyes-how they frightened! The height how scary!
His fear was real, this Christmas was not merry!
He knew he had to leap, they’re shooting oh no
and he knew if he didn’t live, he wouldn’t see Ms. Gennaro.
He crashed through the window, and went straight to his wife,
And with Hans in the vault, he threatened her life.
All bloody and bruised, the terrorists were outclass
by our hero John McClane, he then shot Hans through glass!
He sprang to his wife, what a bloody embrace,
and time to hear let it snow and lay in front of the fireplace.
He had survived the night, those bad guys what suckers,
Merry Shitmas to all, "Yippee Ki Yay, Mother Fuckers!"
That bit of awesomeness was written by Chris Tanski of Under Scoop Fire Blog & Podcast!
Chris, thanks for bringing your writing talents to this years Shitmas!