'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the forums
Not a poster was stirring, not even a Thatcher Venmo;
The posts were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Appleyard soon would be there;
The HiveMind were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of Giroux and Ghost danced in their heads;
And BernieParent in his goalie mask, and MSE in his ten gallon hat,
Had just settled our Starat Jr. and GapToothWanderer Jr. for a long winter's nap,
When out on the HF Boards there arose such a chatter,
BigToe sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the PC he flew like The Flash,
Clicked open the browser and his mouse he mashed.
The Cap'n Dave stood on the beast of the hockey guy glow,
Gave a lustre of hope to HF Flyers below,
When what to Toe's wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature supercomputer and eight advanced hockey metricians,
With a young driver so smart and quick,
Toe knew in a moment he must be St. Appleyard.
More rapid than autoclick his mouse cursor came,
And Applyard whistled, and shouted, and cheered them by name:
"Now, Jojo! now, Magua! now FLYguy and DancingPanther!
On, pit! on, LegionOfDoom91! on, kudymen and KermitTheProg!
To the top of the forum! to the top of HF Flyers!
Now post away! meme away! keyboard noise away all!"
As likes that after the rush of posts fly,
When they meet with an Anti HiveMinder, meme'd to the sky;
So up to the top of the total like records they flew
With the supercomputer full of stats, and St. Appleyard too—
And then, in a twinkling, Toe heard on the roof
The calculating and number crunching of each little click.
As Toe drew in his head, and was turning around,
Down the forums St. Appleyard came with a bound.
He was dressed all in plad, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all filled with formulas and stats;
A bundle of scouting reports he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a smart guy just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a berry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pen he held tight in his teeth,
And all the stats, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a slender face and a little taut belly
That shook when he laughed, like a Snorlax made of jelly.
He was tall and thin, a right jolly old nerd,
And Toe laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave Toe to know he had nothing to dread;
Appleyard spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the prospect reports; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his pen aside of his ear,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his supercomputer, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to HF Flyers and SurroundedByAhos, and to all a good night!”
Merry Christmas ladies and gents! We survived another year of this accursed franchise. Hope y'all have lots of laughter and fun with your loved ones creating special memories.