'Twas the night before Christmas, when through the ware-yard

not a tubby was lurking, not even a guard.

The wires hung from the walls with dispair,

in hopes that Tubbyland would be taken care.

The bots were nestled, no thoughts on their heads.

Their eyes remained with calm glows of reds.

The Original and others lay in their cap,

they would power off their systems for a long winters nap.

When there in the basement there was a small clatter,

Original powered back up to see what's the matter.

Over to the office he flew like a flash,

went through a door to the source of the crash.

The desk was barren as it seemed so

though gave off a glow as a figure showed.

When right in front of me it did appear,

A half-faced tubby who was nearly clear.

He wasn't really there as it seemed so,

I knew that I should probably go.

More rapid than eagles he left and he came,

the hidden tubby without a name.

Crit did a thing for some reason.

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