This day is called the Rape of the Nash:
He that survives this night, and lives to tell the tale,
Will stand tall when this story is recounted,
And shudder at the name of Kevin R. Nash.
He that shall live and see another day,
Will yearly recount to his friends,
And say, “Yesterday was the night of the gape:”
Then will he pull down his pants or spare a glance elsewhere
And say, “These cock and balls I saw upon Nash’s backside.”
Old men forget; yet all else may fade,
But this rape shall linger in memory,
And tales shall be told of those who struck that night.
Our names, well-known in whispered horror
Will be repeated as household legends:
The '92 Crew, nineteen strong,
Will be remembered in frightful detail.
This story shall fathers teach their sons;
And the gang-rape on Kevin Nash shall ne’er be forgotten,
From this night to the ending of time,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we happy few, we band of bulbasaurs;
For he that that night shed his semen with me
Shall be muh nigga; be he ne’er so vile,
This night shall elevate his infamy:
And rapists at home, now safe in bed,
Shall curse themselves for not being there,
And hold their erections cheap while any speaks
That struck with us upon the night of the anus ambush.
