‘Twas the night before Miro, and all through the ring,
The Cleaner’s Broom Girls were dancing, while Marko Stunt sings;
The controllers were hung by the ALAN with care,
With hopes that the Best Man would soon livestream there;

Best Friends hunkered down by the gray backstage shower,
To plot Brandon Cutler’s gold-plated murder;
With Darby on his skateboard, and Starks in sweet threads,
TNT found the eyeballs of all wrestleheads;

When out from the speakers, came sick work by Ruckus,
And Miro appeared, tossing grown men like puppets;
With his Superbad crew so reliably in tow,
He shared another passion he felt we should know;

He’d spent time away, making gaming his fame,
And called out his favorites, each one by name:
“On Skyrim, on Lost Souls, on Red Dead Redemption,
On Last Of Us, Fall Guys, and Among Us sessions!
From opening menus, to killing the boss,
I’ll conquer every level I ever come across!”

As n00bs against a multiplayer master shall fall,
When they meet their fate, sent up against the wall;
So out of the woodwork came superstars AND gamers,
To challenge the big man and make themselves famous;

Whether Wardlow in-ring or the masses online,
All soon came to find out it wasn’t their time;
Miro set a record for eliminations,
Then set back to work keeping up his top station;

He conquered Trent? solo, beat teams down with Kip,
Then made sure Orange Cassidy left with a fat lip;
Lessons handed out, surely, that this cold December,
It’s best to avoid a hot Bulgarian temper;

As we perch on the verge of a whole newfound year,
He’s left a path of bodies to make one thing clear;
Whether tag team, TNT, or heavyweight gold,
With the Best Man around, your reign shall not grow old;

Then I heard him exclaim as he turned off the Twitch,
“Happy Miro Day, all, now it’s Game Over, bitch!!”