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NOTE: Just had to bring ol' Barry T. back. As you may remember, he's deffo not a Poe fan, what with his classic poem The Raven portraying ravendom as nothing but a bunch of dimwits who can only say "Nevermore" over and over. This is his revenge poem, though his facts and timeline appear to be in question. (Is this microphone turned on? Testing one two, Poe was a dip, Poe was a dip, testing.) Once upon a daydream, faintly whilst I watched the boob tube, quaintly Jerry Springer 'bout half over when I nodded off to sleep. Show was boring, soon was snoring when suddenly I heard my bell ring. Outside it was really pouring, pouring there outside my door, perhaps a preacher to ignore, I'd be a beanbag chair and nothing more. (By the way, this is the reader's digest version folks) Beanbag pretense wasn't working, freak outside just kept on twerking (Wait! I forgot what that means) then through my window climbs this guy who looks a bit unstable. He stops and stares as though a zombie, asked him could he be from Bombay, I think his jeans were Abercrombie. I showed him kindly to the door, pointed clearly to the exit, pushed him onward 'cross the floor, he stood there shaking, nothing more. "Now look" I cawed with all my muster, "Get this through your thick head buster, Spongebob's coming on soon and I've still to take my nap." He looked at me with subtle smile, those crazy eyes had me beguiled, [karma's spanked me with this trial] on my knees (Ack! I don't have knees) on my knees I now implored would he please just take a hike. I then got up from off the floor, he stared and said... "uh, I gotta tinkle." EPILOG That's right folks. You now have the edited, abridged version of what really happened back in 1845. Now I know what you're thinking - 'Gotta tinkle'? But it doesn't rhyme! Well, I can't help it folks that's what he said. And it may explain why he decided to turn things around to make me look like the nitwit in his classic poem, The Raven. This is Barrymore T Raven III, signing off *did they have TV in 1845? Hmmm...
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