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} Supplicant, oh supplicant, your grovel's bent my ear.
} Your question I would once ignore, yet still I do draw near
} to listen to your tale of woe, and when it all I've heard,
} to ponder and to posture, and to offer you my word.
}
} Your love, she sounds a wonder true, all beauty and all grace,
} Her glance would melt the coldest ice, or cause a heart to race.
} But her love is another, yea, a vengeful, evil beast.
} You fear what he in wrath might do, what punishment unleash.
}
} Do I get your gist, your jive, the point of your sojourn?
} It's a story told a thousand times, a thousand more reborn.
} You're not alone in wondering which path is best to take.
} For every man who's won his love, another's heart did break.
}
} But sooth, I say, it isn't yet your heart for which I care.
} Your foe, when learning what you've done, will set out and prepare
} to lash you true with whips of flame, red and burning hot.
} In short, you fool, to punish you with a great and terrible *ZOT*!
}
} Aha, you see, I am too wise to fall for your sad ruse.
} I know this "Beth" of which you speak, the one you call your muse,
} is no "Beth" at all! This one, whom you describe so well,
} is none other than my Lisa! Now you'll rot in hell!
}
} Did you really think that I would fail to understand?
} Perhaps that I'm too slow, too old, or simply out of hand?
} "Omniscience" is a word that you should really have looked up.
} It might have saved us both from what is shortly coming up.
}
} Now Zadoc, priest and servant true, will bring to me my staff.
}
} <sigh>
}
} I said, "Now Zadoc, priest and servant true, will bring to me my
} staff!"
}
} (Sorry, oh great one. Here ya go.)
}
} About damn time. What have I said to you about missing your cues? Rats.
} Made me lose my train of thought and everything. Line! Yo, line! Oh,
} that's right.
}
} Ahem.
}
} Now Zadoc, priest and servant true, has brought to me my staff.
} I'm tempted to ask him to do this thing on my behalf,
} because I hate to soil my hands with dealing with your kind.
} But just this once I'll do it for the pleasure that I'll find.
}
} My anger's piqued, my staff is charged, I have you in my sight,
} Come forth now fire, wrath, and heat, and cure me of this blight!
} I call upon the gods above, who've grant--
}
} (Orrie! Hey, Orrie!)
}
} Huh? I'm in here, Lisa!
}
} (There you are. Whatcha doin'?)
}
} Same as always, angel cake. Listen, I'm really busy--
}
} (Ooh, I know that guy!)
}
} Yes, I know, see I was just about to--
}
} (Small world, huh. Well, I'm off. I borrowed your credit cards, okay? I
} need some new shoes.)
}
} Sure, sugar lump.
}
} (Smoochies!)
}
} Uh-huh. Bye, now.
}
} (Orrie! I said, "Smoochies!")
}
} Aw, geez, Lisa, you know I don't like to do that stuff in front of the
} supplicants....
}
} (Orrie!)
}
} <sigh> Okay, okay. Smoochies!
}
} (Hee hee! Bye!)
}
} Finally. Okay, where was I, AGAIN? Right.
}
} My anger's piqued, my staff is charged, I have you in my sight,
} Come forth now fire, wrath, and heat, and cure me of this blight!
} I call upon the gods above, who've granted me my gift,
} to tear apart all space and time, and cast into the rift
}
} this mortal slug, this worm, this filth, this oozing, crawling thing
} who dares to look upon my bride! (I'm giving her the ring
} any day now; don't you think that just because we're not
} yet married you can look at her-- I say that you cannot!)
}
} Yes, thunder, lighting, come right down, and burn this sickly roach
} who on my girlfriend-- nay my wife!-- believes he can encroach.
} Kapow! And zap! And whoosh and blam! These sounds you will soon hear!
} Can you feel it deep inside, that black and chilling fear?
}
} I see that you're one of two things: courageous or just dumb.
} For as I stand above you touching trigger with my thumb
} I see that your knees do not quake, your forehead does not sweat.
} Why would that be? I can't believe there's something I'd forget.
}
} I have my staff, I'm ready to zot, and yet you stand there still.
} No tears, no screams, no fainting spell, you don't even look ill.
} Perhaps you think you'll beat me yet, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch.
} But one little *ZOT* and all you'll be is a foot-high pile of pitch.
}
} Your hair goes first, burnt off your head, and then your clothes
} ignite, fueled by shoes of leather, there, and jeans worn way too
} tight. And then the rest of you will burn, but first your sweatshirt,
} orange, will blacken slowly, as flames dance...
}
} Um.
}
} Oh, rats.
}
} ZADOC!
}
} (Master?)
}
} I need a rhyme for "orange."
}
} (Master??)
}
} You heard me. And make it snappy. I'm right in the middle of an epic
} poem, here. And while you're at it, keep your voice down. Can't look
} flustered in front of the supplicants.
}
} (<whisperwhisper>)
}
} IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO? "Door hinge!?" You can't be serious. How
} am I going to work "door hinge" into an epic poem of love and revenge?
}
} (<whisperwhisper>)
}
} Of COURSE I have to rhyme "orange." There he is, see? His shirt. Bright
} as a pumpkin. There's no way that could be mistaken for yellow. It's
} too bright to be red, and not brown enough to pass for "umber."
}
} (<whisperwhisper>)
}
} NO I CAN'T ASK HIM TO CHANGE HIS SHIRT. Oh, for the love of.... Just go
} away. I'll get myself out of this.
}
} Your hair goes first, burnt off your head, and then your clothes ignite,
} fueled by shoes of leather, there, and jeans worn way too tight.
} And then the rest of you will burn, but first your sweatshirt, orange,
} will blacken slowly, as flames dance, reflected in that door hinge.
}
} <shudder>
}
} Enough of this, my patience wanes, your time it has expired.
} This staff is heavy, and my back is getting really tired.
} I hoped that this would be more fun, but now I see it's not.
} Writing poems is a lot of work to go to for a *ZOT*.
}
} A poem for a question, who could resist that kind of bait?
} I will admit I didn't see the trap that did await.
} "I'll challenge him to rhyme with me, and we'll see who's the better,
} when I appear before him wearing an unrhymeable sweater!"
}
} That hubris I could not ignore, I had to meet your challenge.
} But now that my reply's been framed, I can... um...
}
} Oh, the heck with it.
}
} *ZOT*!
}
} You owe the Oracle a rhyme for "challenge."
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