Twas the night before rice, please read.

Twas the night before christmas and out on the street, nothing was moving, not even a Jeep. all was still with nothing in sight, Then what to my wandering eyes did i see, but a Mustang SVT alone at a light, The moonlight glistened off my wing, oh so gay. My import was ready to show'em the way. I had some NOS on my tiny motor, I would beat that Stang with its Eaton supoercharger. I pulled alongside and revved with a fart, pointed to the wing on my gay shopping cart. the light turned green, i was off like a jolt, while the SVT filled the night sky with smoke. I called to my Evo four pistons, on basher, on crasher, on smasher, and the one knocking, onward faster lets finish the slaughtering. The engine did rev, i was ready for action, but just at the moment the Mustang caught traction. With a grin on his face, and a gleam in his eye, Like a shot from a cannon, the SVT went by. He blew by so fat, he spun me around twice. I knew at that moment, I was freshly fried rice. He held up one finger as he drove into the night. all i saw was his dimming taillights. But I heard him exclaim as he roared out of sight, "You stupid ricer, you can't beat Blue Oval Dynamite."