'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a Skinner was stirring, not even his mouse; the stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of new Object Desktop stuff danced through their heads;
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, When out on the desk there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the Microsoft Windows I flew like a flash, opened the screensaver and threw up the sash. The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow, gave a luster of midday to objects on the desktop; When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature widget and Frogboy so lively and quick, I knew in a moment he must have the fix.
More rapid than eagles his cursers they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, DesktopX, now Icondeveloper! now, Iconpackage! now, IconX! on, Keyboard LaunchPad! on, Objectbar! on, Skinstudio and Windowblinds!. Get up there WindowFX and Natural Desktop!
To the top of the computer, to the top of the wallpaper! Now skin away, skin away, skin away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, in the operating system so high,
so up to the binary-top the coursers they flew, with the frogboys laptop full of new stardock toys, and fixes, too.

And then in a twinkling I heard on the computer the prancing and pawing of each little key. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, downloading on my desktop came Object Dock Net and frogboy with a bound. He was dressed all in green from his head to his foot, and his cloths were all sparkly from the skin he used to boot; A bundle of Stardock programs he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening this pack.
His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like icons, his nose like a binary,
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the grin on his face looked like one’s and o’s.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a narrow face, and a round little belly that shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was a right jolly little elf- and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled the computer screen with a brand new theme; then he turned with a jerk, and laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, through the broadband he rose.


He sprang to his Com Port, to his modem gave a whistle, and away they he flew like the down of a thistle; But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he transported out of sight-

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good-night!"