This one is from the vault, dedicated to the slumdog slave traders at Apex Technology Group, their fat fuck Desi boss, Sarvesh Kumar Dharayan, and their dumb wop lawyer, Patrick Papalia:
Twas Two Nights Before Christmas
-Ode to Tunnel Rat's Victory-
Twas two nights before Christmas, when all through the house
Champagne corks were popping, but not for that louse.
The one from New Jersey - that fat Hindi creep
Who hoped he could sue me but now he's in deep.
My New Jersey lawyer who could not be there,
While the judge threw the case out - all fair and square.
And the slave-driving Maderchod, who tried to ream me
Has now shined the light on his abuse of H-1B.
The techies were nestled all snug in their cubes,
Awaiting the verdict on these Apex boobs.
Away to my keyboard I stroked the good news,
Tore open the pantry and broke out the booze!
The moon exposed light on their labor petitions
Where they lied to the judge and made faulty admissions.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
A text on my cellphone, that their time was near.
With a little old driver, like Tiger Woods' wife
I wanted to bash him, for trying to ruin my life.
More restraint followed, his coursers they came,
As the judge redeemed End-H1B, and restored my good name.
Now Dasher! Now, Dancer! Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the front page of InfoWeek, to the top of Google Rank,
I sent this yule tiding “GO SUCK ON MY CRANK!”
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
That the rat bastard Hindi had jack shit for proof.
As I drew in my head, a sketch of his face,
Being blown up to bits all over the place!
He was messed up for sure, from his head to his neck,
And his clothes were all trashed, as he mailed me my check.
For MY lawyer fees, which he tried to elude
He hadn't expected to pay for me getting sued.
His eyes-how they winced! His expression was scary!
His ass-cheeks were straining, his news wasn't merry!
His droll, weasley mouth was drawn up like a bow,
As he looked like he was getting ready to blow.
He was creepy and plump, a quivering mass of jelly,
And I laughed when I heard curry hurled from his belly.
A wink from my friends that this case was now dead,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, and when I went back to work,
I knew I had triumphed over this Maderchod jerk.
If Santa Claus gave me one of my wishes
This creep would be swimming with the New Jersey fishes!
I sprang on my way, to my pals gave a whistle,
That this mess is on them, like an old itchy thistle.
And he heard me exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, Tunnel Rat won the fight!”