Monday, November 3, 2014

'Twas the night before Phoebe...

Twas the night before Phoebe, when all through the region
Not a spaceship was flying, not even P-Legion
The supers were logged in their caches with care,
In hopes that a capital brawl would soon be there;
The pilots were nestled all snug in their pods,
While visions of dead titans was dreamt by these gods;
And Mittens in his onesie, and miners their ore,
Had settled their brains, for a long winter's war...

May Phoebe bring us endless war and destruction--cheers!

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