Merry Christmas everyone.
Thought you all would appreciate this.
Scott*Twas the night for street racing and all
through the *hood the rice boys were looking for cars to beat good.
A small herd of Hondas were farting their way
Down to Main Street, sporting coffee cans
bought on Ebay.
The cars were bedecked with bright pink
stripes and words
Like a neon explosion of vomit and turds.
The cars were so low that each bump made a *clunk*,
The tires looked like rubber bands round a tree trunk.
The engines were whining, they made such a clatter,
Sounding like blenders when mixing up batter.
The cars overheated, the drivers got out,
With so much steamed rice, it smelled like
Chinese take-out.
While cooling their *motors* they went on
their mission
To find lesser rides for their street competition.
Two headlights appeared through the gloom of
the night
As a late 60*s Mopar came into sight.
They laughed at the driver of this sad old timer,
The wheels were steel and the paint was, well*primer.
*You*ve got to be kidding! You must be a jerk.
Your tailpipes are tiny. Your sidemarkers
don*t work.*
The Honda boys cracked up at the grim basket case,
When the driver stepped out and said, *Want a race?*
He pulled out his wallet and threw down his cash,
*A thousand says my car will win in a dash.
I*ll beat any one of the cars in this lot,
So pick out the fastest one that you*ve got.*
A young blood steps forward in the baggiest of pants,
And throws down his money, *You ain*t got a chance.*
As nods were exchanged, there was no turning back,
So the cars headed out to the top of the track.
The Civic pulled up, with its disk brakes a*squeaking
As the Mopar approached, its transmission leaking.
The drivers were ready, the starter in place.
He dropped his arms quickly to start off the race.
The Honda was revving, it*s wheels all a*spin,
It shot off the line and made such a din.
The dull looking Mopar just slipped into gear,
The front lifted slightly as it chirped in the rear.
At the 60 foot mark, the Dodge blew a wire,
And the front of it glowed from an under-hood fire.
As the Dodge pulled up level, the ECU broke,
But he still left the rice boy behind in his smoke.
At the end of the run, the Dodge slowed down a bit
But the drums got so hot that they soon too
were lit.
When the Honda arrived in a blaze of loud farts,
He found the Dodge driver with his hands full
of parts
He*d pulled from the glove box, *cos he*d come prepared.
A few broken pieces did not have him scared.
The rice boy was speechless, and out of a grand.
The night had not gone as he*d hoped or he*d planned.
He turned to the winner, his mouth gaping wide,
*What the hell motor do you have inside?*
The Dodge driver shrugged as he opened his door.
*A slant six, though it was only firing on four.*
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