Twas the night before Christmas, and deep in the house,
Shan was at work -- boy, what a grouse!
Why isn't he guessing what Santa will send?
Why waste his time on a mere edit's end?
Surely he has more fun things to do
Than sit in his office and make City stew!
Doesn't he know the hard work can wait?
He should relax before it's too late,
Before he goes toes-up at his PC,
Moaning, "At last, oh my lord, at the end I can see
That there's much more to life than telling a tale,
I should have stopped writing and let myself sail
Along with the others, carefree and gay.
(But not, let me add, gay in that way!)"
But the truth of the matter, although it is strange,
Is Shan isn't a loner or grimly deranged.
He just gets sucked into the stories he tells,
And when in that world, all with him's well.
So though some might mock him on this bright eve,
He follows his heart because he believes
You can only be happy if you are true,
To all that is pure -- to all that is you.
Hell's Horizon was waiting, keen to be told,
So Shan pushed ahead till the evening was old
And wrapped up his edit just after eight,
No present this Christmas could be quite as great!
I got what I wanted for Christmas, and so
I'll go to bed happy, singing "Ho-ho-ho-ho!!!"

Night night, Shansters. Merry Christmas!!!!

Darren.