Evil Organisation of Legalised Terorists

Evo došao je još jedan 25.12. Pao je snijeg i ovo je jedan od rijetkih bijelih božića. Neznam za vas ali ja sam zbog toga jako sretan. . E da i došli su praznici. napokon ću se naspavati a mislim da i ostali isto. I pošto više nemam inspiracije sada ću završiti. Uživajte u praznicima i sretan vam Božić.





Issac



'Twas the night before Bozic and all through the kuca,
The zrak smelled of spicy sarma and rakija vruca.

By the dimnjak the slapice were hung kinda krivo,
In hopes that Sveti Nikola would soon bring some pivo.

Tata was in his soba and was snoring pretty hard,
Tired from stealing the drvo from our susjed's backyard.

Mama was in the podrum cooking like a budala,
She was making some juha and rum-filled baklava.

When out on the lawn there arose such a galama,
Tata yelled from his soba, "Pa koji je kurac vama?!"

There was a kucanje on the front vrata with such a loud barrage,
I yelled through the prozor, "This is a Croatian house, come in
Through the garage!"

And standing in the garaza right next to my car,
Was my drunk Tetak Joza coming home from the bar.

"Ajde, odi spavat," I told him with might,
Don't pokvarit my chances of seeing Sveti Nikola tonight.

About two sati later I heard a buka downstairs,
So I jumped from my krevet to see who was there.

Standing by the drvo and eating some leftover pizza,
Was good ol' Sveti Nikola reeking of homemade sljivovica!

He was all dressed in crveno and big as an ox,
And wore some smede sandale along with crne socks.

Smelling like a cigan that's been drinking for days,
He wasn't what I expected, I was actually amazed.

"U pizdu materinu, kako mrzim ovaj posao," he said,
And then muttered something about his zena and how he wished she was
Dead.

He put the presents under the drvo while whistling a Bozic beat,
They were wrapped up kinda shitty with paper bags from 49th Street.

12 carape for me and 12 for my brother,
3 pairs of gace for my dad and turska kava for my mother.

This Croatian Santa was pokvaren - he was nothing like the fable,
I should have known it when he swiped my pack of cigarete from the
Table.

I yelled, "Hey!", as Sveti Nikola turned around like a car,
Throwing his slapa at me as if it were a ninja star.

The look in his eyes was nothing but fright,
He said, "Jebo ti pas mater!", and dashed out of sight.

Up through the dimnjak I heard a loud shriek,
Sveti Nikola had just prdnuo like some wild bik.

He got in his kaput, made for hladne zime,
And he yelled at his jelene, ime Po ime.

"Naprijed Marko I Darko, Petar I Ante,"
"Ajde Josip I Vinko, Ivo I Mate."

And then he yelled, "Ajdemo brzo, moramo poc,"
"Sretan Bozic svima I svima laku noc!"


and *~black fire~*