How Jack's pre christmas relaunch went, in a poem
The grift before Christmas
Twas the grift before Christmas, when all through the bungahouse
Not a creature was stirring, not even a brambly mouse;
The clutter were hung by the chimney without care,
In hopes that a new sideboard would be there;
The sb was nestled all snug in their bed;
While visions of sugar-slops danced in their head;
And mammapapa in her 'kerchief, and in her pigskin cap,
Had just settled her brain for a long Dino nap,
When out of the airfryer there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen I flew like a flash,
Tore open the drawers and opened the trash.
The moon on the ashes of the sausage risotto,
Gave a lustre of gloom and grease to the sorry kitchen grotto
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a distressed agent, pr firm and eight ragey old-dears
With discourse from tattle and x so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment Jack must be in the internet Nick.
More rapid than eagles, a bird in trousers, Jack came,
And jack honked, and shouted, and called the grifts out by name:
"Now, currys! now, del monte! now hellmans and dklive!
On, patreon! on, x! on thrifty kitchen, Facebook and vbi
To the top of the tattle threads! to the top of the customer service wall!
Tattle spoiled it for me, dash away! dash away all!"
