By skyforbes The townsfolk of Whoville were cheering with glee, For the Santa Rally was coming—at least, that’s what they’d see.
But high on Mount Margin, with a snarl and a scowl, The Grinch glared down at charts, letting out a low growl.
“The rally is canceled,” he muttered with spite, “Those call-buying Who’s won’t make profits tonight.”
But high on Mount Margin, with a snarl and a scowl, The Grinch glared down at charts, letting out a low growl.
“The rally is canceled,” he muttered with spite, “Those call-buying Who’s won’t make profits tonight.”
He slunk into town with a sack full of dread, While the Who’s clutched their calls, turning painfully red.
“Upward momentum?” he chuckled, “Oh please, what a tale!
Your premiums will wither, your deltas will fail!”
With a flick of his fingers he smashed through their gains, Turning green candlesticks into long, dripping red stains.
And as Whoville panicked, their tickers turned bleak, The Grinch only laughed—oh, so wicked, so chic.
“Your calls are now worthless! Your hopes, overdone!
For I’ve stolen your profits—each and every one!”
And though winter winds whispered of holiday cheer, The market stayed frozen… for the Grinch had steered clear of the Santa Rally this once-hopeful year.