T'was the night before Christmas and in coldie’s small house, the pumper was thinking, "It's time to delouse." He entered the shower and turned on the water and stood there and pondered the things that he ought'r.
He thought of the days when his stock was worth plenty, and the years that he'd hoped it would get back to twenty. He thought of old Bartzy, her wrinkles and wizen, and was shocked to look down and see somethin' was risin'. He thought of his mother, so poor and still hoping that YHOO would fly, and her son would start coping. He thought of his aliases, too many to count and how everyone laughs as his losses mount. He thought of Dan Loeb, Jerry Yang and Jack Ma, and he dreamed that just one of them might be his Pa. And when he had finished and dried himself well, he lay on his bed and imagined a bell in the distance was jingling, and he was a Santa Clever enough to engage in the banta.
"On Lexi, on Framer, on Ally and Split, Now HM, YDK, it's no time to quit." "Our stock is a flyin', higher than my sleigh..." but he crashed in a field in a large pile of hay.
Then he woke on his bed and it was just a dream, and coldie let out a horrible scream. And Momma came runnin' with ol' Aunty Aggie to see what was wrong with their favorite baggie. And they heard him repeating, like parrot or fool, "Merry Christmas to all, and that's why I rule".