Twas the night before Vegas, and all through the house; every twizzle stick was stirring, to get on a souse. The dachshunds were nestled, all snug in their crates; Every crisp Ben was folded, a crease through the face. The carry-on was loaded, and set by the door; Fuck-me pumps and new Skechers, lined up on the floor. The degens were all tipsy, comped drink tickets dreamed; While visions of Royal Flushes, danced on the screen. >>>Help me finish this, degens.