Twas The Site Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all 'cross the web
All the users were clicking, the big names and the plebs
MySpace was decked out in baubles and candles
And each tired nickname 'twas a new festive handle
As children by now we'd be snuggled in bed
But we now stay online and leave comments instead
Farmville and Farm Town have settled their spat
And holly and ivy surround every Lolcat
YouTube had new vlogs; a thousand carol singers
And on Dailybooth everyone's nice to the mingers
On 4chan, the people are friendly tonight
And LiveJournal emos see things looking bright
A long time ago we believed in old Santa
But now we recited a new kind of mantra
One by Rick Astley, that's our sort of humour
Days before Facebook were simply a rumour
Then up popped an ad: BlogTV saying, "Quick!
There's a new show just starting, by a guy called 'StNick'!"
The Internet users, they clicked by the score
And once all in the chatroom, this fat man did roar:
"Off YouTube! Off Facebook! Off Skype, and off F
My Mum vs. The ZombiesMy mother is the sort of woman who would go out to loot the shops during the zombie apocalypse and still come back with wholemeal bread and organic juice drinks. I would always have assumed this, but I only knew it to be true now because that was exactly what had happened. Wholemeal bread, organic orange juice, blueberry breakfast bars and a six-pint of skimmed milk. If that had been me sent to do the shopping, I wouldve raided the chocolate and wine.
Theres nothing moving out there, Mum said, matter-of-factly, dumping the shopping on the kitchen table. Bloodied bodies littering the road on the way to Tesco, and some burnt out cars in the road, but nothing else.
Does that mean were the only ones left alive? my little sister Anne piped up.
Maybe, maybe not, said Mum. She was far too blasé about this sort of thing, but then again, I dont think any of us had reacted quite as we expected. It wasnt like in th
The ChairSandra nudged Clive hard in the ribs, which appeared to wake him up, although she hadnt noticed hed actually been asleep. She whispered, This is it. Two muscled men bought a chair onto the front stage and rested it next to the auctioneer.
It was a large armchair with salmon and yellow patterns all over it, and a threadbare white cushion on it. The arms were covered in the same material, save for the ends where varnished wood appeared. The seat and back looked so comfortable they looked like theyd swallow you up. Sandra supposed that this was no different from the way a poison dart frog has bright colours to warn you of its venom.
This chair comes from the early nineteen thirties and is in very good condition, said the auctioneer, reading from a card in his hand in the same monotonous voice hed been using all night. Sandra stared at him; not really taking in what he was saying because anything he said about the chair would be a lie.