'Twas the night before E3 and all through the party,
we listened to Halo Infinite's music, it sounded like Marty.
The controllers were hung over the by the TV with care,
in hopes that Halo Infinite soon would be there.
The old men were nestled all snug in their chairs,
while visions of no sprint danced in their heads.
Phil with his smile and Frankie with his mop,
had just woken up from 5 years of develop.
When out of the E3 crowd there arouse such a clatter,
we tuned into Twitch.tv to see what was the matter.
Away to the screen, we flew in a flash.
Logged into the chat, worried that our thumbs were now trash.
The light of the reflection in Chief's shiny visor,
gave hope to a generation, whom were none of the wiser.
When to our wondering eyes should appear,
but a wide open ring, and grunts running in fear.
With a little nostalgia, we all cheered and say so,
"That looks just like classic Halo!"
More rapid than eagles our hopes were destroyed,
We shouted and sobbed, of the many flaws that annoyed,
"Sprint? Please no! That walk speed was ideal!"
"The textures and lighting don't have a visual appeal!"
"Oh Craig, oh no, Brutes have suffered a fall."
"343 please update it, fix it! Patch it all!"
As icicles do before the warm spring appears,
to the bottom of our cheeks did fall our tears.
Up to Microsoft's top, the complaints they flew,
to a room of Satya, Phil, Bonnie, and the Halo Lead too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard on ResetEra,
whispers and murmurs that filled with me terror.
As I drew my texts and was about to hit send,
onto a blog post the Halo Lead said.
He was dressed in his jammies, from his head to his feet,
His promises were empty and words felt like defeat.
A bundle of reasons were flung over his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his sack.
His words didn't twinkle, but his message was clear:
Halo Infinite was delayed til TBD next year.
Our little mouths were filled with Monster Energy treat,
and the beards of our chins dripped with Taco Bell meat.
Our pile of double XP codes thrown to the fire beneath,
and the smoke it circled our heads, just like a wreath.
Now we have aching bones and little round bellies,
and COD fans are mocking us "Hey, u jelly?",
Our hair is thinning, we are right old men,
and I laugh that we all got fooled again.
But with wink of an eye and a post from an ex-Bungie head,
Joe Staten convinced me I had nothing to dread.
He spoke a few words about how 343 went to work,
They'd redo the art and make the brutes look berserk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
claimed there's more to come and back to work he goes.
He sprung to his office, to the team gave some whistles,
My hope was renewed by a couple of in-game stills.
So here I exclaim before Halo turns 20 next year,
I can't wait to play with you and reboot our career!