Once upon a midnight lately, while I logged in feeling greatly
Overconfident about the posts and threads that lay in store,
While I used my point-and-clicker, suddenly there came a flicker
On the screen there flicking quicker, quicker than I could ignore.
“My connection’s bad,” I muttered, “causing me to wait here for
667, nothing more”.
Ah the night it was a Sunday, though by that time it was Monday,
And we all had had a fun day at the Ball on our dance floor,
Celebrating Darkies winners and the corresponding sinners
Who had acted like beginners – knowing not what came before.
Though the Countess was caught cheating and the tale had borne repeating
Still some members aimed for fleeting fame and yet they were deplored.
But my memory was broken by the same insistent token
That was flicking ever quicker on the screen with lights galore.
I stood slowly, standing lowly, stating what I came here for:
“I just wished to see forum,” for that really was the quorum,
“667, nothing more”.
Suddenly the lights stopped flashing followed by the sound of smashing
From within the screen which now said “OpenMe.mp4”.
Rapidly my thoughts collected, clearly I was now infected
With a virus unbeknownst to anyone I could implore.
“I may regret this,” I said, clicking, “If it starts the Third World War.”
From my speakers came a rapping, rapping most unlike a tapping,
Accompanied by fingers snapping to a rhythm in 4/4.
Sherry Ann was blinging, filled the screen and started singing,
Rapping to her heart’s content until the crowd said “We want more!”
Sherry Ann said, “Si, señor!”
To this day she haunts the homepage, rapping to bring in her own wage,
Working also five shifts per week at her town’s convenience store.
Now she’s very meet-and-greety, when she replies LCBT,
But what in the world would she ever do all of this stuff for?
667, nothing more.