Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Mag 7 boys, although I'd sure have some fun if'n I did. I'm just borrowing them for a while, and I'll bring them back in basically the same condition in which I found them. I'm also not making any money off of this, even if that would be pretty cool.
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the saloon
was the sound of a piano being played out of tune.
Ezra was gambling, a bright smile on his face
as he dealt for himself yet another black ace.
Bucklin was sitting up next to the bar
in hopes that Inez would not go too far.
Nathan had just come down from the clinic
and said with a huff, "You call this noise music?"
When out on the street there arose such a shout
that the men all got up to see what it was about.
And what did they find was the cause of this din?
Why, 'twas none other than their tracker friend Vin.
Towards the jail he was being steadily pulled by his wrist
by a black-clad, glaring gunslinger named Chris.
The tracker leaned back and dug in his heels,
But Chris pulled him forward as if he were on wheels.
The Texan continued to struggle and fight
but neither could save him from his horrible plight.
As Josiah left the church and JD the stable
Vin began to yell as loud as he was able,
"JD, Josiah, and Ezra, and Buck,
Nathan, please help. Chris has gone amok."
But the five peacekeepers just followed behind
wondering just what their leader had in his mind.
They entered the jail and then closed the door.
The tracker's pleading expression they tried to ignore.
And on the wall near one of the cells
was the ugliest red suit in all seven hells.
The white trim was not really white anymore,
the original color nothing could ever restore.
The suit itself was covered in thick, gray-green dust
and Vin took one look and started to cuss.
"Cowboy, I ain't gonna be wearing that thing.
It just ain't my color, and the fuzz'll all cling."
But Chris just looked at him with green eyes real wide
and walked up to the other man's side.
The blond slid an arm across the Texan's shoulder
and turned to glare when he heard someone snicker.
He turned back to the tracker, his voice low and sincere
and saw Vin's blue eyes light up with fear.
"Pard, you know how much this means to the children."
And the tracker knew that he shouldn't have listened.
And so Vin slowly donned the ugly red suit
but the whole time he remained resolutely mute.
He wore the jacket, the pants and the boots
but the beard and the hat he threatened to shoot.
Chris cajoled, and he begged and he pleaded
until finally Vin gave in and yielded.
He put on the hat and he slid on the beard,
but when he turned back to Chris, he just stood and sneered.
The gunslinger pushed him out into the street
and the tracker knew there would be no retreat.
Children were standing around almost everywhere
and the muffled laughter of his friends was a real nightmare.
And they all heard him shout as he ran from their sight,
"Next time just give me a real good gunfight."
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. *bg*