Merry Christmas, Love Henry
'Twas the month of Christmas, when all through Greece,
Not a villain was stirring, and all was at peace;
The weapons were hung on the rack with care,
In hopes that Henry Cain soon would be there;
The assassins were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of spilled blood played in their heads;
Soon Henry Cain arrived in his chair,
Full of intentions to make others despair;
He twiddled his thumbs and tapped his feet,
Ready to announce where they should meet;
While Cassandra Cain, his dear older sister,
Awaited an answer from the young mister;
They had a small chat and would soon meet,
Which would then end in her untimely defeat;
He then dialed a number with one click,
To which he made plans that made him a dick;
On the holiest night of the holiest day,
In blood, Bruce Wayne would pay;
He left for his room and slept for awhile,
Wearing a small grin that turned into a smile;
For he had given himself the greatest of gifts,
Screwing his cousins for giggles and shits.
