Last prose for awhile, as it can be mentally taxing. Tango was an angry fellow, Anger with pure hate Never once was Tango mellow, Angry was his fate. He was typing late one night, Whilst visiting the Forum Typed out "Douche" with such delight, That none there could ignore him. "Hey, go easy," J.D. said, "It's Christmas Eve, you know!" Tango laughed and shook his head "Ah go play in the snow!" J.D. typed a scary threat, An ominous style warning, "Ghosts will come to you, my pet, Thrice times before the morning." Tango drifted off to sleep, Until he heard a sound, And then not a single peep, Until the roof feel down. Standing there on Tango's chest, In Hawaiian shirt, A ghost who sure could use a rest, For he was old as dirt. "I am Cane, of Christmas past!" "Now grab my tropic shirt!" "We have to go, we'll make it fast, I promise, it won't hurt!" Into a hole, our duo flew, Cold and small and plain, A lady groundhog, sad and blue, Her mate, Tango had slain. She took a pistol from the shelf, Looked to the earth above, "Can't do Christmas by myself, I'll see you soon, my love." They left the hole, and Cane cried out, "I hope you f*****g hang!" "You're a douche, you f*****g lout!" Then from the hole, a bang.