The Night Santa Went Crazy [Concluded]

[johnhughthom]

The Langoliers! Haven't seen that in years.

Goes on internet search to find Stephen King film.

[Joooray]

So we are looking for Vixen, if the write up and my interpretation is any indication.

And I think that's you Centurion1, considering your scummy post last round. You seem like a sneaky one.

So Vote: Centurion1.

PS: A FoS: John. To shy to cast a first vote, eh?

[johnhughthom]

PS: A FoS: John. To shy to cast a first vote, eh?

Nope, busy finding The Langoliers to watch. Now that that's done, Vote: Centurion1. I don't like subs.

[Centurion1]

vote: johnhugh


i dont like johns, hughs, but i do like thoms

[Yaropolk]

So we are looking for Vixen, if the write up and my interpretation is any indication.

And I think that's you Centurion1, considering your scummy post last round. You seem like a sneaky one.

So Vote: Centurion1.

PS: A FoS: John. To shy to cast a first vote, eh?

I know for a fact that Vixen is innocent, you're misinterpreting the poem.
But I'll Vote: Centurion1, voting for a dead guy last round indicates he isn't paying much attention to who is being lynched.

[Centurion1]

unvote; vote: yaropolk


i was a replacement and i came in about an hour before double a was lynched.

scummy

[Captain Blackadder]

vote jooray

Soemthing just seems suspicious about you.

[Askthepizzaguy]

That's plenty of time; I'll get to the writeup as soon as I can. Taking a breakies right now.

[Askthepizzaguy]

'Twas the third night since the burglary, all quiet in the house
Until Mrs. Claus started yelling "Get off your butt, you old louse!
There's walls that need painting, and dishes that need scrubbing,
And you'd better do a darn good job when you do the snow shoveling
I can't get out the driveway, and I'm getting split ends,
because I can't go to the book club with all my book club friends.
And you know something else, you need to get thinner
Tonight, all you're having is broccoli for dinner."
So Santa huffed and he puffed and he said with a smile
"Why don't you kindly get off my back for a while?
I'm retired, and still tired from managing hundreds of elves
And spending my danged Christmas filling department store shelves
With toys for ungrateful, spoiled, whiny, snot-nosed little brats
And I'm tired of these constant, un-Christmas-y spats
And I'm tired of hearing your shrill old voice
I'd shut you up good and tight if given the choice
So begone, devil woman, just leave me be
Just leave me alone to watch my brand new TV."
And so Mrs. Claus said "DO IT OR YOU'RE DEAD!!!"
And so Mr. Claus said "Bah, go soak your head."
And so Mrs. Claus said "I'LL SMACK YOU SILLY!!!"
And so Mr. Claus said nothing as he ate some piping-hot chili.
And so Mrs. Claus said "I'M WARNING YOU, NOW GO!!!"
And so Mr. Claus just gave a jolly "Ho ho ho... NO!"
And so Mrs. Claus went to the tree, and started gathering candy canes
And so Mr. Claus said "What are you doing, are you insane?"
And so Mrs. Claus said "It seems that way, you big jerk!
Now I'll warn you one last time, you'd better (expletive) get to work!"
And Mr. Claus said "Make me" and so Mrs. Claus obliged
She started whipping candy canes at his jolly old hide.
Santa said "Ow, that hurts you old hag, so you'd better run,
I'll settle this once and for all with my trusty gun!"
And Mrs. Claus just laughed and laughed at Saint Nick,
But Santa Claus looked red-faced and quite ticked,
And Mrs. Claus knew that this time he weren't joking
Because of the way his jolly old ears were smoking
And he put down his pipe and he put down his beer
And he finally got up off his fat and lazy old rear
And he grabbed for his shotgun and gave a raspy "HEEE-HAW!!!"
Mrs. Claus was frightened by the look in his eyes that she saw.
"I think this time he's serious" she said as she fled
As Santa Claus started bashing the walls with his head
He was all fired up, and he was looking quite steamed,
And he fired that shotgun while Mrs. Claus screamed
Oh don't worry folks, Santa Claus surely missed her,
But he took out all the frankincense and myrrh
And he took one look at the tree, and with a laugh
He blew the carefully-arranged decoration in half
He shot up the boxes, he shot up the toys
He made an awful mess and a cacophony of noise
He shot up her new sweater, he shot up her new dresser,
He got revenge on his foul wife, the oppressor
He went into the bedroom and shot up her new vanity
In one final act of repetitive nagging-induced insanity
He fired and he fired and he shot up the whole house
Until not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Mrs. Claus had locked herself in the bath, quite afraid
She wouldn't come out and see the big mess Santa made
And Santa, who ran out of ammo, then decided
To grab some whiskey and drink until his temper subsided
So he went to the cabinets, and he went to the shelves
And he went through the bottles until he found some Jack Daniel's
And then with a huff, through the front door, he went away
And he took his pipe and his whiskey all the way to his sleigh
Where he could smoke and drink in peace, for the rest of the day
So then he opened up the whiskey, and enjoyed it's bouquet
He poured himself a glass, and set it near the throttle,
then with a shrug, he simply downed the whole bottle
And then he puffed and he puffed on his pipe
And he was quite pleased not to hear his annoying wife gripe
But then he remembered, he needed to take care of some business
He needed to punish the reindeer that had destroyed his Christmas
So he sat and he pondered how he would get his revenge,
But he decided he'd think much better after another drinking binge
So he downed all the whiskey, and he drank all the schnapps
And he downed shot after shot until Santa collapsed
When he came to, he was not in his right mind
And his anger and his hate and his drunken state combined
Until he came up with a fun way to make those ungrateful piggies squeal
He'd chase after them all with his souped-up snowmobile
And atop of his saddle in his great horseless sleigh
He'd be wielding a chainsaw, while he was chasing his prey
A look of pure evil came to his murderous eyes
When he thought of cutting those reindeer down to size
So he got up with a huff, he went off with a bound
And into the garage he went, until was heard a sound;
The gasoline engine in the vehicle was heard 'round the pole
And Santa Claus laughed, from the darkest part of his soul
He'd cut them in half, he'd slice off their jaw
He'd mutilate their bodies with his evil saw
And so he took off, and soon he took flight
As his 'mobile flew over snow drifts in the night
And he crashed his 'mobile straight into the pen
And threatened to murder one of the reindeer once again
He barked to them all "OKAY, WHAT'S THE TALLY???"
And so it was Centurion1, in this poem's finale
Donner, the reindeer, ran off in such fright
When he saw Santa Claus sawing up everything in sight
But then, poor Donner, he was trapped in a corner
And soon, very soon, he'd be meeting the coroner
In very small pieces, he'd be scattered to and fro
Chunks of flesh would soon end up in the snow
And Santa roared, his sick evil laugh
As he sawed poor Donner clean in half
And he buzzed off his legs, and he buzzed off his hooves
To punish the poor creature for gobbling up Scrumptious' food
He hacked him to bits, and mangled his corpse
The papers would call Santa the "Terror of the North"
But during this, Donner's nose popped off and fell in the snow
And beneath the false nose, Santa saw a faint glow
It seems this wasn't Donner at all, that much was made clear
It seemed it was Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Alas, poor Rudolph, his bright nose starting to fade
Would be placed in the earth until he decayed
And it seemed that Santa had killed one of the deer
That had been making poor Scrumptious' food disappear
Rudolph, it seemed, had bore a disguise
So that he'd be able to blend in and hide
Among the other reindeer, while the rest of them died
But that night in the cold, in the reindeer's old pen
Rudolph's larcenous kibble-eating career met its end

The next morning, however, yet more kibble was gone
And so they'd vote once again,
and lynch another guilty fawn

Alive: 4

Captain Blackadder
Joooray
Johnhughthom
Yaropolk

Dead: 3

Double A- Prancer
Death is yonder- Cupid
Centurion1- Donner/Rudolph

[Yaropolk]

Last round's tally:

Jooray: cent1
JH: cent1
Yaro: cent1
Cent1: jh then yaro
CB: jooray

If scum know each other, it would seem CB is our man.

[B]vote: CB[\B]

[Yaropolk]

My markup skills are lacking

vote: CB

[Joooray]

But would he be so stupid to cast the last vote against his dog food eating buddy and thus sticking out rather than blending in?

Looking at the voting behavior of the last few rounds I rather come to the conclusion that you are rather suspicious. With Cent taking the heat off you the round DiY was then lynched and you being the third on the bandwagon last round when it became clear that your buddy was going to feel Santa's wrath, while at the same time trying to clear Vixen's name though there is nobody with investigation abilities that I'm aware of. That all screams scum to me. Also, your breath has been really bad the last few days, not as bad as santa's but bad enough.
So, I'm sorry but I have to follow my gut and Vote: Yaropolk.

[Yaropolk]

Lets do some basic math, shall we?

5 votes last round. 2 on centurion, 1 on JH. Nothing has been decided at that point. I could have voted for JH or for you, centurion stacks on me, and we try to convince CB that one of you is scum. I would never throw a mafia partner to the dogs unless the day was already lost. In addition, i will remind you that Cent voted for me. You can play the wifom card saying that we decided to throw all our efforts behind me, but even if that were the case, I wouldn't be stupid enough to Bw third and then have my about to be lynched partner vote for me.

Also if you recall, you accused Vixen, and i posted that he's i know he's innocent (I am vixen). Why would mafia want to draw such attention to himself rather than sit back and use our voting block powers to quietly lynch off random opponents?

CB is our dog food eater. If he's not I'll offer my head up tomorrow for the chopping block.

[Askthepizzaguy]

I'm going to need at least three votes to end this round, and I'd like to see all four.

[johnhughthom]

CB is our dog food eater. If he's not I'll offer my head up tomorrow for the chopping block.

If he isn't and you are you have won tomorrow, so that's a meaningless promise.


Vote: CB

[Joooray]

Not really, we would still be two townies vs one mafia.

Your arguments do make sense though, Yaro, so I'll grant you that wish and Unvote ;Vote: CB.

[johnhughthom]

Not really, we would still be two townies vs one mafia.

Getting the two Christmas games mixed up...

[Captain Blackadder]

Yoah I am not the dog eater I am the most loyal raindeer of all Dancer.

Now firstly the reason I voted for jooray was that I found him suspicious and I heavily dislike rounds were everyone votes for one person and that is that it makes it easy for the mafia to hide within the town so I voted for so0meone else just to see if I got a reaction nothing more nothing less.

[johnhughthom]

Why no vote Edmund?

[Captain Blackadder]

Because if I do vote for yaro who to me is suspicious everyone would say that it is a retaliate vote and continue to vote for me. If I am to die that is fine but I want one thing promised that yaropolk will be kept to his deal and will be the next to go don't let him get away with manufacting a lynch againest another innocent.

Vote Yaro

[Askthepizzaguy]

Well everyone has voted and it's been more than 24 hours, so... I think it is fair to say this round is over. Captain Blackadder gets lynched, and I'll have a poem for you soon.

[Subotan]

Do you write these poems yourself?

[Askthepizzaguy]

Of course. Me and my trusty rhyming dictionary.

[Askthepizzaguy]

'Twas the fourth night of bloodshed, since Santa had snapped
And Kris Kringle had woken from a long winter's nap
He yawned from his sleigh, parked out in the snow
And listened to the Saints football game on the radio
He's a Saints fan of course, he is a saint after all
Santa was hammered before they even kicked the ball
He cheered for Thomas as he rushed for a score
And he cheered for Drew Brees as he threw for one more
He gobbled some pork rinds as he cheered a Hartley field goal
And he laughed as the Bucs fell deep in the hole
Just before the half, the Bucs broke their streak
But at 3 to 17, for their team it looked bleak
Santa roared with glee and pounded his chest
Everyone knew, Santa thought, that the Saints were the best.
"Who were these Buccaneers, who do they think they are?
Don't mess with the Saints" Santa said, as he lit a cigar.
After halftime was over, Santa was fully tanked
He cheered some more, as the Bucs were getting spanked.
After a bore of a third quarter, and no change in the score,
Another victory cognac, Santa started to pour.
Just then the Bucs scored after a 23 yard gain
But Santa was still confident that the Saints would win the game
But when Spurlock returned the punt for 77 yards
Santa started tearing up all of his Christmas cards
He was steamed that his team would blow a 17-point lead
But as the game went to overtime, he still wouldn't concede
When the Bucs won the toss, he was grinding his teeth
He cheered the Saints defense, one of the league's most elite
but Santa blubbered and he sputtered and he cussed and he swore
When the Bucs offense drove into range for a long-distance score
His face had turned red and his throat was choked tight
When Barth's kick went 47 yards and split the uprights
"How could this be?" Santa hissed, "Just how could this be?"
And Saint Nick was quite pissed. "How could you lose to that team?"
And Saint Nick, with his Santa-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could this be so?
They lost to the Bucs! They blew a huge lead!
In the second half, they frickin' shut out Drew Brees!"
And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then Santa thought of something he hadn't before
"The Saints lost," he thought, "To a team two and twelve."
Such a thought made Santa grab his gun from the shelf
And what happened then...? Well in the North Pole they say
That Kris Kringle's cold evil heart shrank three sizes that day
In a minute his brain just didn't feel quite right
He nearly had a heart attack, in the bright morning light
His blood started to boil, until vessels burst in his head
And he... HE HIMSELF... Would murder every Bucs fan dead!
But before this would happen, Santa would go berserk
And he would slaughter a reindeer, maybe this time, the jerk
Who ate up the dog food, and like a thief in the night
Would sneak back to the pen, while the others slept tight.
So he thought up a plan, and he thought it up quick,
He phoned up his drinking buddy, a close friend of Saint Nick's,
Someone Santa knew, who would think killing reindeer was funny,
Someone as cold-hearted as Santa himself, that crazed Easter Bunny.
And Santa yelled through the phone, "Time to go hunting, buddy Frank!
Let's kill us some reindeer, and do it with a bloody tank!"
And the crazed white rabbit hopped on over with glee,
The two of them driving a tank was quite a sight to see
They drove past the polar bears, they drove over the ice,
And they didn't give a **** who was naughty or nice
Santa had just one thing on his crazy old mind,
He'd flatten everything in sight, as his rage made him blind.
He drove the tank all the way to their pen
And asked through a loudspeaker "What's the tally, again?"
A nervous reindeer held up a sign, as the others started to run,
It showed "Blackadder" had been lynched, three votes to one.
So Santa shouted "HEY DANCER! GET YOUR MANGY BUTT OUT HERE!"
And Dancer watched in horror as Santa's tank came near.
And so Dancer danced off, and he sprinted off in a flash,
As the tank drove through their pen with an enormous crash
Dancer prayed for a miracle, as he tried to dash away
With Santa close behind, in an unholy armored sleigh
And then Santa smiled; his sadistic glee he did show,
As a blast from the main gun sent Dancer into the snow.
O'er the hills the tank went, treads lifting up off the ground,
Until the thing came crashing down, with an earth-shattering sound
And all that was left of Dancer, indeed all that remained
of his corpse that was flattened, was a big bloody stain.
The Easter Bunny and Kris Kringle drank in celebration
of their unholy deed, which guaranteed them damnation
But what sanity was left, in Santa's twisted mind
Was all gone the next morning, when he happened to find
That yet more kibble had gone missing from the big kibble sack.
So one last time, the poor reindeer, would have to vote who'd get whacked.
And if they did not find the true culprit today,
Santa warned, one last time, that they would ALL truly pay.

Alive: 3

Joooray
Johnhughthom
Yaropolk

Dead: 4

Double A- Prancer
Death is yonder- Cupid
Centurion1- Donner/Rudolph
Captain Blackadder- Dancer

[Yaropolk]

As promised vote: Yaro

I am not sure who is cent1's partner, well played. My FOS is on Jooray only because 2 rounds ago safest vote on Centurion for mafia would have been the first one + he's been very active, always voting first avoiding being a follower on bandwagons.

Up to you JH to figure it out.

[Yaropolk]

Actually scratch what I said about Jooray, he wouldnt have started a BW on his partner. I think we're being had by the host and all three playes are innocent. So....unvote; vote:atpg

[Askthepizzaguy]

If that's the case, then I get to vote.

Vote: Yaropolk

[johnhughthom]

I doubt it's Atpg, we are all very wary of him in his games and it wouldn't be enough of a shock to satisfy him (In my opinion, not claiming in depth knowledge of our host's pysche ).

Yaro's proclamation seems to make it unlikely he's the baddie unless he was WIFOMing us, which makes more sense to me than Jooray. Vote: Yaro


Sorry for the edit, hit spoiler instead of bold.

[Subotan]

Of course. Me and my trusty rhyming dictionary.

Superb.

[Joooray]

Damn, this sucks. One of you has truly played a superb game. I'll still go with Vote: Yaro. Of course john could be the dog food eater as well, but my gut tells me that Yaro just tried to be very clever.