Everyone down in BJville
Liked Christmas a lot...
But Torts,
Who lives in Ohio,
Did NOT
Torts hated 2013-14! The whole Canucks season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his head wasn't screwed on right.
It could be, perhaps, that his skates were too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his blood pressure was too fucking high.
But,
Whatever the reason,
His heart or his skates,
He stood there on Christmas eve, hating Johanssen's nameplates,
Staring down from his office with a sour, Tortsy frown
At the warm lighted windows below in Officer Bob's town.
For he knew every BJ fan down in BJville beneath
Was busy now, salting their ice each.
"I guess that's what I'm saying, Brooksie," he snarled back in New York.
"You get that through your head?" he said to that reporter dork.
He growled now, with his Torts fingers nervously drumming,
"This fatass, unfit, out-of-shape Johansen is nothing!"
For,
Tomorrow, he knew
All the BJ fans Foggy and others,
Would wake up bright and early. They'd rush for their Nationwide Arena game day posters.
And then! Oh, the canon! Oh, the canon! Canon! Canon! Canon!
That's one thing he hated! The Boom! Boom! Boom!
"Fuck this fucking state and LeBron, too," he muttered.
"I don't mean that in a racist way though," he politically correctly uttered.
All their windows were dark. Quiet Ohio smog filled the air.
All the BJs were all dreaming sweet drills without care
When he came to the first little house on the square.
"This is Bob's house," the grumpy Torts hissed
"If I take away his ice time, maybe he'll get the gist."
Then,
He did the same thing
To the other BJs' players
Leaving ice time
Much too small
For even the Lake Erie Monsters
It was a quarter past dawn...
All the BJs, still a-bed
All the BJs, still a-snooze
When he packed up his game plan,
Packed it up with their ice time! Water bottles! Their sticks!
The pucks! And even the shirtless BJ fan!
Some ways up! Up the side of Columbus' burning tire pit,
He rode with his gloat to the tiptop to dump it!
"Pooh-Pooh to the fans!" he was Tortsishly humming.
"They're finding out now that Johansen will be traded!
"They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!
"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
"Then all the fans down in BJville will all cry YOU'RE OFF THE CASE BOBROVSKY!"
"That's a noise," grinned Torts,
"That I simply MUST hear!"
So he paused. And Torts put his hand down to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the burning tires.
It started low. Then it started to tire...
But the sound wasn't sad!
Why, this sound sounded uncaring!
It couldn't be so!
But it WAS uncaring! Very!
He stared down at BJville!
Torts popped his eyes!
Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every fan down in BJville, the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any care at all!
He HADN'T stopped Christmas from coming!
IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And Torts, with his feet getting warm in the fire,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "Do they not fucking tire?"
"I took away ice time! I threw out Bob's badge!
"I even said Johansen sucked ass!"
And he puzzled till his puzzler was sore.
Then Torts thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "means a little bit more!"
And what happened then...?
Well...in BJville they say
That Torts still didn't give a fuck that day!
And the minute he gave a fuck,
Syke! He never really does.
He whizzed with his anger through the bright morning light
And he retracted his report on Johansen's fat glide.
And Bob's still the top cop on the force,
Because Torts doesn't give a fuck, of course.
He himself called the BJ media
Torts yelled at the three of them all.
