'Twas the night before Christmas,
And deep in their lair
Assassins lay baking
Their weapons with care.
Their foes were all nestled down snug in their beds,
As visions of skirmishes danced in their heads.
‘Kerchiefs at their throats, and treason in mind,
These devious bakers their talents combined.
One good with alchemy the other construction,
An evil intent their MO for production.
They sharpened their blades and measured their spices,
And baked a whole tray full of deadly devices.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
The bite of the wind and the shriek of a crow.
All played a part in their reprobate scheme
To make killer cookies with a seasonal theme.
They spoke not a word as they granted their treats,
To the cutthroats and cretins they knew from the streets.
Sweet on the tooth, with a sting in the tail,
Perfect for tea parties or a spot of blackmail.
As the dim dawn of Christmas appeared in a sliver,
They swiftly disposed of the evidence down river.
You could hear them exclaim, as they drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a clean fight!"
Thank you to one Sruli Recht for saving Christmas and flying co-baker on this one.
