Hello everybody, and welcome to another special holiday edition of the Magic Show. This week we’re going to be recounting that age-old holiday classic, “Twas the Night Before Zendikar.” Let’s get into the holiday spirit with a little silly rewriting of a proverbial classic, shall we? Let’s go!
Twas the Night Before Zendikar
‘Twas the night before Zendikar, when all through the cellar
Not a creature was stirring, not even World Queller!;
The Nulls were hung by the Guul Draz with care,
In hopes that Sorin Markov soon would be there;
The Kor were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of equipment danced in their heads;
And Chandra in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down and began to untap,
When out on the battlefield there arose such a clatter,
I sprang a Pitfall Trap to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like an (Windrider) Eel,
Tore open the map and got Freed from the Real.
The quest on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of counters to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes looked like a stalker
Was actually a group of Magic Planeswalkers!
With a big old Baloth, so loud and cagey
I knew in a moment it must be Rampagey
More rapid than Raptors the casters they came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Sorin! now, Elspeth! now, Chandra Ablaze!
On, Garruk! on Bolas! on, Nissa Revane!
To the top of the meta! The top 8 of em all!
Now Wrath away! Wrath away! Wrath away all!”
When they burn away faeries whose dominance is lost,
On up to the house-top the ‘walkers they went,
Braving the Elements with Sadistic Sacrement,
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the pool,
Reflecting while playing vs the brothers Ruel,
I drew from my deck, and nodded to the other player,
When down the chimney came a shiny Baneslayer!
A bundle of Broodmates were flung on her back,
And she smiled like Bennie cracking a pack
Her eyes – how they sparkled! Her wings so shiny and foil!
If only I had an Into the Roil!
Her tiny little mouth began to whisper in my ear,
And me with no Gatekeeper of Malakir!
The head of a cobra, she had in her fist,
Of the Lotus variety, found in the Mist(y Rainforest)
The end of her sword was thrown a sunder,
Looking like the bad end of a Halo Hunter
She had a heavy price tag and five abilities strong,
And I had wished to own her, the whole night long.
She was powerful and flew, three more abilities to boot,
It’s like they stuffed her inside that overpowered suit
Five power, five toughness, I counted in my head,
Her pricetag in double digits, my budget soon in the red;
She spoke not a word, looked upon with an expression
That said messing with me is like drawing blanks in succession
And laying her sword down by her side,
She told me there were no Doom Blades to find;
She sprang to her caster, an Unsummon revealed,
Jace, the Mind Sculptor had Called her to Heel;
But I heard her declare, as she flew back to his hand,
There’s gold in them Mythics, the critics be damned.
Merry Christmas everybody!
Evan “misterorange” Erwin