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‘Twas the night before Christmas at MI home base
And GoalieBCSC had a sad face.

The bar was all filled with men drunk off their asses
But Goalie just stared at twelve empty shot glasses.
“The Twelve Shots of Christmas,” he said with a sigh,
“Just won’t be the same – my tequila’s run dry!”
He held up a bottle that had just a worm.
The poor little drunk thing had started to squirm.

He looked ‘round the bar at the soldiers so merry.
He stared at the glasses – not even a cherry.
Then it came to him as he stared at the floor –
Tequila by barrels, and almost next door!
And drunk as he was, and still thinking quite slow
He had the right answer – invade Mexico!
He rose from his chair and then fell with a clatter
And stood up again as though nothing’s the matter.
He cried in a loud voice, “Now listen to me!
I’m out of tequila – here’s how it will be:
We need some more, so I’ll go talk to our leader
And tell him we need a new source of saltpeter.
The obvious path to it lays to the south.
Before he can object or open his mouth
We’ll be volunteers to go get us the stuff.
One Mexican region should be quite enough.
And if we just happen to stumble upon
Tequila, we’ll take some. And then Party On!!”

The Infantrymen all arose with a cheer
And emptied their glasses of liquor and beer.
Then stumbling into the cold winter’s night
They gathered their gear and got ready to fight.


n4n0 was nestled all snug in his bed
When CCO Greenday dumped him on his head.
“Get your ‘toon ready to go! We’ve got orders!
We aim for tequila! To south of the border!”

The transport B-2 lay upon the tarmac
When Goalie rolled up with his gun and his pack
And calling out roll as he loaded the plane.
He looked at his crew and he called them by name:

“Now AutumnsDawn! Eller! Cbowmom! Herr Vootsman!
On tsewell! GMchick! Ashvio! PigInZen!”

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
The soldiers in transport did take to the sky.
Then south to the target the soldiers they flew
And dropped from the transport by chute, two by two.
More rapid than eagles the soldiers deployed
But Goalie was starting to get quite annoyed.

“There’s no one around. It’s as dark as the night
And nothing for miles by night-vision sight.”
He sent out his scouts and quite quickly they found
A series of tunnels that led underground.
The scouts, they disposed of the sentries and then
Proceeded to strike at the enemy’s den.
They slaughtered enemy soldiers at will
And went room by room through the base, deeper still.
Where what to their wondering eyes should appear
But Santa’s own sleigh! And eight tied-up reindeer!

They looked around more and were beside themselves.
Those Mexican thugs had enslaved all the elves!



They even made them change their hats


The dastardly fiends had taken all the toys
And hidden them deep from the girls and the boys
And put all the elves to work on the saltpeter.
But who had set all this up? Where was the leader?



Even the toys had to conform to the local dress code.


Then down in a lift there came such a fat bastard
They knew in a second he must be the master.
He was dressed all in black from his head to his foot
And his beady small eyes were the color of soot.
A trio of elves he held leashed to his fist
And he looked like he was, in two words, “very pissed.”
His minions, they jumped, but the MI was fast
And shot them all dead before three seconds passed.
They freed all the elves from their cells and their chains
And ushered them out. But Goalie wracked his brains
To try and divine where they’d hidden the booze.
He poked a downed guard who was taking a snooze.
“Hey buddy, just what did that fat bastard do
With all the tequila he had taken from you?”
“He sold it,” the beaten-up soldier replied,
“To PHOENIX for use on their holiday slide.
Each year at this time they spill out all the booze
And slide down a hill wearing nothing but shoes.”

Dejected, Goalie turned and got back to work.
That bastard had sold all the booze! What a jerk!
He ordered the MI to load up the sleigh
The toys and the elves, and they took them away.
They dropped them all off at the frigid North Pole
And returned to MI Base, safe, sound and whole.

The soldiers, exhausted, retired to bed
But Goalie had one more wish. Out loud, he said,
“I guess there won’t be Christmas shots for this year.
Without the tequila, I’d rather drink beer.”
And tired, he laid down but couldn’t find sleep
And counted tequila worms instead of sheep.
He woke in the morning and looked at the tree.
A present was under it! What could it be?
He tore off the paper! A tequila case!
His glee put a smile on his sour face.
Now he could celebrate with his 12 shots!
“Merry Christmas to all! I’m off to get plotzed!”



Remember, kids, if you can do 45 damage (influence) barehanded, or you have at least 200 Strength and a battlefield rank of at least Lieutenant, you too could be a member of the Mobile Infantry!!!


If not, then get your military career started in the Training Corps!


Ho Ho Ho and a bottle of rum,
Captain Spamgobbler
Press Officer
eUS Mobile Infantry