Dear Edgar Allen Poe,
I am so, so sorry for this.
The Emo with the Raven Hair…
Once upon a work day dreary, while he toiled, depressed and bleary,
Over quarterly earnings and “FYI” e-mails he’d rather ignore,
Disembodied, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As if a tiny TuPac was rapping, rapping at his office door.
“‘Tis the office douche,” He muttered, “come to make bad puns galore –
Only ‘that’s what she said,’ or ‘your mother’ jokes and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly he remembered how it felt to be a member,
Of a darker creed of folk; tailored suits they never wore.
Wistfully he then reflected; on the youth he had neglected
To appreciate before becoming such a boring corporate whore.
For once he was quite bitchin’; to Death Cab he’d often listen,
But as the years flew by, he cared for Emo strains no more.
And the silly, skinny pants he’d labored into to gain females’ favor,
Squoze him with a strangling grip
Which he had never felt before.
So that when striving to appear
Aloof and cool, He bared some rear
Til the females he’d known cried “Bare your asscrack nevermore!”
Then the office creeper squawked,
“Man, I bet your mom is smokin hot!”
And the Emo, he remembered, all the ballads he’d once dismembered,
Of broken hearts and passions at war.
In but a blink, he’d grabbed a stapler
And brandishing office supply like rapier, thrust it into douchebag’s heart,
To hear his dick jokes nevermore.
The office pervert lay aghast,
Choking, gurgling, fading fast,
But gasping still, “what…that…for?”
To this, the Emo stated, “All is right, I’m vindicated. For all is fair in love and war.
But heed these words well as you perish,
If it’s life and health you cherish
You would spout your dick jokes garish,
But diss my mommy, nevermore.”