Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the Labs
Not a creature was stirring (exceptin' Jed's crabs).
The stockings were hung on the porch with much care
With hopes that a Visitor soon would be there.

Researchers were nestled all drunk in their beds,
While visions of moonshine jugs danced in their heads.
And MAJ in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a hillbilly nap.

Then, out on Spock Mountain arose such a ruckus
We jumped out of bed like a pin had just stuck us.
There was something outside! I quickly took heed
and raced down the stairs like I'd had trucker speed.

The moonshine I'd drunk had my brain full of pins
I fell flat on my face! Damn, man, I had the spins!
Then, what to my upside-down eyes should appear
But a motionless figure, with big pointy ears.

This logical Vulcan stood still as a rock.
I knew in a second it had to be _SPOCK_!
I thought in my haze that hellos were in order
but fast as a flash he pulled out his tricorder.

He scanned up and down parts I don't show my wife,
Then he said, with a sniff, "No intelligent life."
So, enraged, he smashed all through the Labs like a truck,
and he screamed, "I AM SPOCK AND I LIKE TO SAY '_FUCK_'!!!"

Well, by now, the hillbillies were all out of bed
And had spilled down the stairs, still baked out of their heads.
I'm required to say that their eyes all bugged out
At the uncontrolled Vulcan, there, thrashing about.

See, he smashed all the jugs! And he smashed all the beakers!
And he cut up my new pair of flame-logo sneakers!
This Spock, who was burning with hot Vulcan rage,
Bit the head off a mandrill we kept in a cage!

Then he pulled off his clothes! Nude as when he was born!
Then he pointed at *me* and said, "GO GET ME PORN!
I'D TAKE ONE OF YOUR GIRLS, BUT THEY DON'T HAVE THE HEAT
TO HANDLE SPOCK'S HUGE RAGING HARD SLAB OF MEAT!!"

Well, bleary-eyed, cotton-mouthed, what could I do?
What with Spock's state, I gave in, wouldn't you?
So, I wearily pulled out the keys to the Vault
When behind me, there came an earth-shattering "HALT!"

It was Jed! He'd awoke from a deep orgone haze,
And found instead SPOCK in a horrible craze!
Just imagine the heartache that was Our Commander's!
But nothing can brainfuck our good ol' Jed Sanders!

"Well, now, Spock," he said, "We're all so damn glad you're here,
And whatnot. It's the specialest time of the year!
I know I'm not Vulcan, and it's none of my bizness,
but YOU, my man, look like you could use a Guinness."

It was true! And Jed's hero was visibly moved
By the thought of a stout that's imperially brewed.
"BY GOD," Spock said, "THERE'S JUST ONE THING THAT I SAY,
AND THAT'S THAT I'D TAKE BEER OVER PORN ANY DAY!"

So that night we drank Guinness and moonshine and those
that held out drank until the new Christmas sun rose.
And Spock? He flew off, while we all cursed his name,
And he yelled, "Beaujolais! And to all, SPOCK GOT GAME!"