3rd place in Derby #245: Poetry Illustrated, with 575 votes!

Whatcha readin’ there? “Forgotten lore,” eh? Somebody remember to write it down, though, eh? Heh heh. Oh, c’mon. That’s a joke, guy. Yeesh, lighten up.

Oh, me? Just wandering in from the “nightly shore,” if you catch my drift. I was out with some lady friends of mine, and- well, brother, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, now does he? Let’s just leave it at “nevermore.” Hey, who you callin’ ungainly? I got plenty of relevance! I got your “relevance” right here, pal!

Oh, is that your chick? She’s a hottie. Oh, sorry to hear that. I meant no offense; I didn’t realize. Look, you could use some “cheerin’ up,” y’know? I’m gonna chill out right here, pal. I’m all yours. Not a feather will I flutter. What? Who’s leavin’ tomorrow? Not this bird. I told ya, pal: “Nevermore.”

No, I know plenty of words. You never seen a “talkin’ raven” before? Man, you ever leave this place? What do you mean, “What do you mean?” I’m just sayin’, y’know, “Nevermore.” What’s with you? You got all quiet. You just gonna lie down there? That’s cool. You got any books on ornithology in here? I’d like to, eh, “study the physiology” if you catch my drift. Heh.

Woah, woah, woah! Who you callin’ “wretch,” pal? Back off. Evil? Who you callin’ evil? I just said, “Nevermore,” man. That’s all. Relax. What’s all this fuss about balm and Gilead? Never heard of the place, man. Aidenn? You’re gettin’ all philosophical on me, aren’t you buddy? Been drinkin’? Eh? Hittin’ a little of “the sauce?” Hey, no judgment here, pal. I tried drownin’ my sorrows too. Y’know what? The only thing I found at the bottom of that bottle was myself. True story.

Woah, woah! Calm down, bucko! You’re an angry drunk, I see. Wow. All right, all right! I’ll leave you alone! Holy cow, have a conniption why don’t you?! “Neveremore,” all right? “Nevermore!” I’m just gonna flit up here to this pallid bust. You’re mad now, but you look like you could use a “roommate.” I put that in air quotes because I don’t really feel like I should pay rent.

But I figure if you don’t get some friends soon you’re gonna do something goofy like marry your 13-year-old cousin or something.

Wear this shirt: While pondering weakly and wearily in a chamber somewhere.

Don’t wear this shirt: On a bleak December night to the Plutonian shore.

This shirt tells the world: “Why yes, I am a Freshman English major. How’d you know?”

We call this color: Maybe it’s a metaphor for Slaten.

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