The night before Christmahomes

[Hammock Parties]

'Twas the night before Christmahomes, when all through Arrowhead
We prepared to beat the Niners, their secondary was dead.

But helmets were hung in their lockers with care,
That our QB would spread the ball 'round with equal share.

The Chiefs were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of big bombs danced in their heads;

And Veach in his jammies, and Clark in his nightgown
Had just settled down after drinking the town.

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

Away to the front row I flew like a flash,
Fearing the return of that Alexian trash.

The moon shining down on the fresh-painted grass
Made me think of a glorious Patrick Mahomes pass.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
A big red bus, the Kansas City Chiefs were here!

With an old coach, so fat, with a great big gut!
Yes, it was Andy, who jiggled his barbecue butt.

More rapid than Tyreek his players they came
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.

"Now, Patrick! Now Kareem! Now, Fuller and Hitchens!
On, Sammy! On, Kelce! On Houston and Jenkins!

To the top of the stadium! Throw that deep ball!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

And then, in the hallway, I heard footsteps come.
It was Fat Andy and the Chiefs, even before the sun!

As I logged off the Planet, and was turning around,
Down the aisle Fat Andy came with a thunderous bound.

He was dressed all in red, yes, he looked overweight.
And said, "The 49ers are going down, I know you can't wait.

A bundle of ribs he had tucked under his arm.
He promised, he'd eat them, after Jimmy came to harm.

Said Andy: Mahomes will throw 30 passes, for a total of 500 yards.
San Francisco should really just go play some cards.

Have you seen our receivers, and our QB Patrick?
He's about to unleash that big swinging dick.

Meanwhile, our new offensive line will protect him all day.
And I have plenty of screens to keep their pass rush at bay.

He scoffed when I brought up San Francisco's Shanahan.
"Don't make me laugh!" said Andy, "He might as well be Peter Pan."

Fat Andy then closed his playbook, and got back on the bus
He added, "by the way, Jimmy G is a wuss."

"Also, it's the opener, so our fans will be really loud!
"Get ready for a beatdown, today you're going to be proud."

He sprang to his seat, to his team gave a shout,
And away they all drove, ready for the rout.

But I heard Fat Andy exclaim, thinking just how the 49ers sucked.

"WE'VE GOT PATRICK ****ING MAHOMES, SAN FRANCISCO'S SO ****ED!"

[TwistedChief]

You. Seem. Nice.

[FAX]

And this, boys and girls, is why you should never write Christmas poetry while you're drunk on your ass.

FAX

[TwistedChief]

Originally Posted by FAX

And this, boys and girls, is why you should never write Christmas poetry while you're drunk on your ass.

FAX

No. No. No. This is the heart of Christmas poetry. Alcohol creates all types of creative. There’s clearly a lot of deep emotion escaping here... amazing.

[Nickhead]

everyday is christmas when you are a chiefs fan this year

[T-post Tom]

Originally Posted by FAX

And this, boys and girls, is why you should never write Christmas poetry while you're drunk on your ass.

FAX

I for one, appreciate the empty-calorie contributions of Mr. W. It's not just a theme. GoChiefs!