Well, I may not be officially affiliated with this mod in any fashion, but the following poem belongs here more than any place in the forum that I’m aware of. I’m fairly well aware now that Christmas Eve doesn’t come on the 24th everywhere in the world, so for those who might be reading this too late (or too early[?]), please bear with my Americanness…
STAR TREK: THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the quarters
Not a console was blinking, not even tricorders.
The turbolift guided me up through the air
When I got to the bridge, the captain was there.
Tired, he said, “I’m hittin’ the sack
We’ve just settled down, from a Klingon attack!
So go take command… make sure we don’t die.”
To the captain I answered, “Aye aye, sir. Aye aye.”
The captain retired, and taking my turn
I sat in his chair, and I tried to look stern.
When what on our targeting sensors appeared
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
I couldn’t believe that I’d seen what I’d seen
Even as the Ensign put it on screen.
The suit, the hat, the beard and the belly!
Even the twinkling bowls full of jelly!
And e’en in the icy-cold vacuum of space
His cheeks were still rosy all up in his face!
We both paused a moment, dumbfounded because
There was no mistaking, we’d found Santa Claus.
Yet, unbelieving, I sought with perception
A seam to unravel this Klingon deception!
For I’d sworn to the captain, our enemies nigh,
To shoot any bogey right out of the sky!
So I stood up straight, and adjusted my shirt
In my best captain’s voice, I called out, “Red alert!”
The klaxons resounded, the bridge lights turned red
And I gave the order, “Torpedoes… full spread!!!”
But that little old driver was so skilled and so fast,
He dodged every missile, from first until last.
I sat back, aghast that our first attack failed
Then the ensign cried out, “We are being hailed!”
She pulled up the channel, then patched it through quick
Through the static we heard, “Don’t shoot! I’m St. Nick!!”
“I’ll stop, only if you can prove you’re for real.
I’ll ask you three questions, I’ll make you this deal!
Where did you come from? If you lie, I will know!”
“The North Pole,” he answered. “Ho ho ho ho!”
I had to admit, this fake knew his facts
But I’d trip him up… I was wise to his act!
“Where the heck’s Rudolph!?” I asked like a jerk.
“He’s allergic to space,” Santa said with a smirk.
Two questions down, but no doubt in my mind
I’d PROVE that he was a phony this time!
“Answer me this, and you may go free.
What did you bring to me when I was three?”
He pondered and puzzled, but to my great awe
He answered correctly… “A STIHL-brand chainsaw.”
Gently I wept, for his words were the truth
And I hugged that old chainsaw I’d treasured since youth.
“And now,” Santa said, “you at last understand
I’m a merry old elf, not a Klingon brigand!
Across many hundreds of lightyears I came
To bring you these presents… that was my aim.”
So we beamed him aboard, and he did his good deed
And readied his sleigh to depart at warp speed.
Leaving, he called through the stars and the snow,
“Merry Christmas to all! Number One, make it so!”