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Library: The Raven Gone Tragically Awry

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Author: Aaleji
Date:Nov 7 1995

   "The Raven Gone Tragically Awry" -- A poem by Aaleji
 
 
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I mudded, weak and weary,
Across many a node and terminal from here to a foreign shore,
While I plodded, neatly mapping, all my fingers keys a tapping,
Keeping rythym I kept rapping, rapping on my keyboard drawer.
"'Tis some LP-MUD," I muttered, to my roommate who looked bored;
"Only that, and nothing more."
 
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate screen of amber wrought its ghost upon the floor.
My soul within me filled with sorrow; I would not be on tomorrow
For my term I had but borrowed, borrowed from the campus bookstore,
From the cruel and miserly leeches at the campus bookstore,
Greedy punks forevermore.
 
And the silly mad uncertain rambling of each mudder's chatter
Thrilled me---filled my screen with fantastic thoughts never thought before;
So that now, to still the strumming of my fingers, I was humming,
The melody from that grunge tune I had seldom hummed before,
A melody that was stolen from Seattle rock of yore.
That I did, and little more.
 
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," typed I, "or madam, truly some direction I implore;
Yes I know I should be mapping, and believe me I've been sapping,
All the skill I have at mapping, mapping as never before,
That I've lost my place entirely." My map was strewn on the floor;---
Worthless now, and nothing more.
 
The man I asked stood there leering, long I waited, wondering, fearing
Doubting, feeling awful for failing as never I had before;
But then silence was broken, and the man had just spoken,
Kindly words, surely token, greeting me for sure,
"Woo woo," said he, and the sentiment was repeated by four,
"Woo woo!"  From the others, and nothing more.
 
Back then to my map sheets turning, all my soul within me yearning,
Soon again I heard the greeting, only louder than before,
"WOO WOO!" said they, "surely, you know what that means you crimson lowbie
If you don't then let us show thee, and this mud for you explore.
Join us in our fearsome party, and this mud you will explore.
All of it, not just the core."
 
"Party join" I typed in flutter, the prospect giving me shudder,
To their ranks stepped I, in the front so I would not miss the tour.
Without even hesitating; not a minute stopped or stayed we;
But with speed of thought they led me, to places I'd not been before.
Places guarded by ghouls and devils, far worse than I'd fought before.
Led me, and chatted, nothing more.
 
When we stopped they were smiling, their wit to me was beguiling,
So I asked them what was funny as to make them stop the tour,
"You must not speak Finnish," said one, "For the humour was not Yiddish,
It is sad then that you missed it, for it was classic I think for sure.
You see there was a typo in that room we were in before
Quite a classic, I'm still sure.
 
Then, they did their laughter censor, moving on to caverns denser,
Then again they were laughing, this time rolling on the floor.
"Now What!" I cried, "is so funny -- by the Gods I'll make you
Tell me -- I'm no Finn but I'm no dummy, translate so I'll get the humour,
What, O what can be so funny, as to make us stop once more?
Tell me truly, I implore!
 
"Nothing at all," said the party, but their eyes were shifting and darting,
Never settling -- they were lying, and I knew that there was more.
"Tell me," said I, "as a token, of this typo still unspoken
Lest our friendship soon be broken! -- tell me truly I implore!
Take a moment and translate this typo you spoke of before!"
Still they laughed, nothing more.
 
"Your name," said one above the din, still with laughter, still with a grin
"Means 'Fuzzy' in our native tongue, we thought you knew before;
You didn't and or so it's seeming, so we're laughing at your screaming
For translation while your beaming a joke like that to our shore.
From this day on you'll be honored as never you were before.
Welcome here -- forevermore!
 
//Aaleji, 7.11.95
//If you failed to enjoy this poem, you need brain surgery.  Actually,
//this is like, a contest, or something.  As is probably obvious to most
//of you -- all, I hope -- the preceding work is a horrible distortion
//of a RL famous poem (apologies to Mr. Poe).  Slightly abridged, the
//rhyme and meter exactly (more or less) match The Raven.  To participate
//in this contest, take another famous work, be it poem, song or play,
//and warp it into a story about Bat.  Entries must be received by
//21.11.95, and must be accompanied by the full text of the original
//work.  Entries will be judged on a purely subjective basis, with the
//most humourous being awarded a 100,000 gold prize.  If all of the
//entries are ho-hum, then a winner will not be declared.  All entries
//received become property of the MUD; you may see them published in
//various online tomes.  Sweepstakes void where prohibited.  Employees
//and immediate family of Aaleji are ineligible for prizes.
 


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