Planet Think Tanks

LC50

Hey, I remembered I posted this a 2 years ago when the TT forum was over at Garage Games. Thought it was time to resurrect it. A few of the players I mention below are long gone, but I leave them in anyway. A few of them are still hanging around, Gahd bless 'em. Happy Holidays!

****

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the servers
Not a single tank was playing, not even Ri bot.

The powerups were placed by the jump pad with care,
In hopes that a smoking light tank soon would be there.

The ammo was loaded all snug in my gun,
While replays of victory continued to run.

I shut the computer off, and I went to bed,
As visions of Think Tanks danced in my head.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a scrum,
Got tangled in the blinds and felt really dumb.
The moon on the lawn with the new-fallen snow
Made things look just like Spooky below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny light tanks.
With a little tank driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than speed powerups the light tanks they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.

"Now, Jangles! Now, FoulPlay! Now, Azzy and Tanky!
On, Cowboy! On Hugo! On, Tally and -Z-!
To the top of the volcano! Get that scrum ball!
To the scrum goal! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As the low ping speeds that make the games really fly,
When the networks really happy, just dont ask why,
So up to the roof-top the light tanks they flew,
With the sleigh full of powerups, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, with a rattling, I heard over my bed,
The creaking and clacking of each little tread.
As I untangled the blinds, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
The smell of smoking little tanks was making me hack,
And I wondered if I'd get my apartment deposit back.

The small brand-new laptop held tight in his hand,
Made it clear that ol St. Nick wanted in Think Tanks land.
He plugged it in, started a game for just for us,
And I joined on his LAN after a little tech fuss.

His system -- how it twinkled! His server how merry!
His aim was just deadly, his scrum skills good (very)!
His new wireless mouse was poised to destroy,
As if the tank he drove was more than a toy.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He wiped out the bots; and then like a jerk,
Laid claim to my health powerup before I could grab it,
And then with his gun, he let my tank have it.

He was a tank master, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when he beat me, in spite of myself.
A click of his mouse, a turn of his head,
Soon he was vapor; my heavy tank---it was dead.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his tanks gave a woot,
And away they all flew with a clank and a toot.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,

"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL,
AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT."