A Combaticon-Style Yuletide by VitaniCat

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Author's Note: This may be funny, but it's also rather mean. You've been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own Vortex or any of his fellow Combaticons. Like always, they are the property of Hasbro. I'm just doing this to be funny.

A Combaticon-Style Yuletide

Upon one morning a long year ago,
I sat with my brothers casting boxes to and fro.
Gifts abound! It was Christmas that morn!
An experience we Combaticons had never seen in all our vorns.

A Fleshling holiday! Who would have thought?
Joining in on festive trading of things we've not got?
I would not have believed if I were not there,
Exchanging presents with love and care.

But what's this? What do I spy?
Gifts set aside that we did not buy.
I become suspicious, could this be a trick?
Perhaps Autobots sent something that explodes and ticks.

Swindle laughs and says "Don't be ridiculous.
These gifts came from jolly ol' Saint Nicholas!"
Saint Nicholas? Who is that?
Some tubby old human in a red coat and hat?

I laugh, "The foolish old coot sounds insane!
But who am I to deny anything free to gain?"
So we all rip open our new found gifts with illicit joy,
Determined to find out whether they were treats or toys.

But something wasn't right when I looked at my present.
This was something even Megatron wouldn't find pleasant.
For I open my box and what do I see?
Nothing but a black piece of fossilized debris.

A piece of coal? What's wrong with him?
Did he just put it there on a curious whim?
Swindle laughs again and says "That's sad.
Santa only gives coal if you've been really bad."

"Bad?" I reply "Why is that wrong?
I should impale him on something sharp and long."
Swindle then jokes "Best of luck with that.
No one ever catches the magical man in the red hat."

My comrades may laugh but this is no game.
Mr. Claus would regret giving me a gift so lame.
Because if I could prove that he was no myth,
That fat old man wouldn't live to see another 25th.

A year does go by and I still remember
What I got that unfortunate December.
And in all that time that did come to pass,
Nothing had changed, I was still going to kick Santa's ass.

I had plotted everything with such malicious glee,
Planning to lie in wait among the presents around the tree.
And when he would glide down with his eight puny little deer,
He'd find that more would be spread across the room than just Christmas cheer.

My brothers away in slumber and now I was alone,
Except for the arrival of that fat jolly gnome.
On the roof of the base I could hear his sleigh jingle.
There was no doubt in my mind that it was ol' Kris Kringle.

With a start and a bit of magic, suddenly he appeared,
I found myself startled to see a human that looked so weird.
A large bag of goods was thrown over his shoulder in tow,
And cheerfully, he let out a foolhardy "Ho ho ho!"

He set himself to work at placing Combaticon gifts all about.
Staring, I wondered how he'd fit in a chimney being so pudgy and stout.
I then shook myself to my senses, remebering why I came.
Santa Claus still had to suffer for a considerable amount of blame.

I loomed over him in a forboding threat
For that gift, I would fill him with regret
I would make him shout, better yet, I'd make him cry.
The best trophy of all would be that he would die.

The old magical fleshie may have thought it droll,
But he wouldn't be passing out any more pieces of coal.
This was his end, that was very certain.
On his miserable act, I would drop the curtain.

Silly old man, why weren't you weary in the time bygone?
You should've known better than to trick a Decepticon.
Tonight your coat and hat won't be the only things that are red.
Because dear ol' Saint Nick, you are as good as dead.

--

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A Combaticon-Style Yuletide by VitaniCat