Few may remember this, my parody of The Raven. For those who don't, just know that all the things becca says here are
things we used to say
back in the day
when we used to play
on IRC, hey hey.
*ahem*
the becca - A Parody by Brian Bridges
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I chatted, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of unfinished chores,
While I chatted, keys all clacking, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my house front door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my house front door--
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate quizzing member talked of school, what a bore.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow
From chat rooms surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Coryz0r--
For the man in the metnal haven who myself named Coryz0r--
Insano here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my house front door--
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my house front door;--
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was chatting, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my house front door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door;--
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the weird word, "Coryz0r!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Coryz0r!"--
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
'Tis the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a noisy clutter,
In there crawled a stately person of the metnal days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made she; not a minute stopped or stayed she;
But, with mien of lord or lady, stood there at my house front door--
Standing expressionless, grinless, scowless, stayed there at my house front door--
Stood like that, and nothing more.
Then this funny person beguiling my mad fancy into smiling,
By the weird and strange decorum of the countenance she wore.
"Though I know not how this can be, thou," I said, "art sure no pansy,
Crazy strange and good friend person who came to me, a daily IRCer--
Tell me what thy lordly name is you who are a strange night lurker!"
Quoth the person, "becca merker."
Much I marvelled this ungainly person to hear discourse so plainly,
Though her answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing this mysterious nightly lurker--
Being or beast just simply standing there at the door of a daily IRCer,
With such name as "becca merker"
But the person, standing lonely at the house front door, spoke only
That one word, as if her soul in that one word she did outpour.
Nothing further then she uttered--not another word she stuttered --
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before--
Soon like Cory, she will leave me, as is obvious I'm a f00"
Then she said, "HA SPITE YOU!"
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so loudly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what she yells is her thoughts spoken so true,
Thought up by some mind of insanity, this seems like some odd plotted plan to me
Is she sent by my mom for not doing my chores, for I have been a lazy worker--
I do hope she has mercy on this poor distracted IRCer
Has mom sent this 'becca merker'?"
But the person still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of becca's shoe.
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous being of f00--
What this odd, strange, staring, silly and super being of f00
Meant in yelling "HA SPITE YOU!"
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the being whose staring eyes now made me wonder what's in store;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
I also thought of Coryz0r
Then methought the room grew darker, transformation like Peter Parker
Clouds blocked the moon and stopped the steady stream of light it'd pour
"Blast," I cried, "my mom hath lent thee,--by the night time she hath sent thee
Punishment shall now come fourth from my memories of undone chores!
Why did I spend the entire day chatting with that Coryz0r!?"
Quoth the becca, "Indeed. Your your!."
"Weirdo!" said I, "thing of madness!--crazy still, if sane or metnal!--
Whether mom sent, or whether you just wandered over here like a f00,
Making me nervous, weirded out, by the mysterious things you shout--
In this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, truly true--
Are you, are you sent by mom?--tell me--tell me, so I'm no f00!"
Quoth the becca, "You, head you."
"Weirdo!" said I, "thing of madness!--crazy still, if sane or metnal!--
By the mom that maybe you went to--by that mom we both know sent you--
Tell this soul with sorrow at stake, if you're even from Moses Lake,
Did mom send you to bring judgement upon me for chatting with Cory like a f00?--
I must know or I shall burst, now please answer me tell me, you!"
Quoth the becca, "Mwehee, woo.."
"Be that word our sign in parting, being or fiend," I shrieked upstarting--
"Get thee back into the night and through the window, becca merker!
Leave nothing behind as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my chattingness unbroken!--you are metnal that's for sure!
Take thyself from out my house, and watch out cuz my dog sheds fur!"
Quoth the becca, "Dogs smell. Drrrrr."
But the becca, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the chair in which I gave her, just there at my house front door;
And her eyes have all the seeming of a bored girl who's daydreaming,
And the lamplight o'er her streaming throws her shadow on the floor;
And my mind wondering what is happening ponders all my undone chores
I'll talk to Cory--nevermore! :'(
