For the small target audience who will appreciate this, may I present:
The Jabberwocky
By Lewis Carroll - Revisited by me, Zach.
The wabe was awash in the sort of gimbleing and gyreing that so often permeated the slithy toves, especially on a balmy, brillig kind of a day such as it was. Even the borogoves were mimsy, and despite their usual cantankerousness the mome raths were positively outgrabe.
"Keep yer eyes peeled for the Jabberwock!" said the old man, teetering precariously from the porch railing. He gestured with a gnarled cane.
"It wields not just the slavering jaws that'll bite ye, but also the claws that make with the catching of yer sorry behind. Beware! And he ain't alone. The Jubjub bird'll be worth shunning, and that forever frumious wanker of a Bandersnatch as well!"
So not to venture unarmed into the proverbial belly of the beast, he rooted around in the back of the closet for his vorpal sword which he took in hand before yay verily buggering off to parts unknown. He was gone a long time indeed, as he sought that manxome foe.
After much seeking and little finding, he at last partook in the ancient and time-honored craft of loafing, this time against a Tumtum tree, whereupon he commenced to thinking.
As he rested, uffishly contemplating his next move, what should come whiffling through the tulgey wood but the Jabberwock, burbling tremendously, presumably fresh from a comfortable couch in Colorado given the flame-like state of its eyes.
It was at this juncture that a fierce battle commenced betwixt the Jabberwock and he, the likes of which the world had never borne witness.
He closed his eyes lest he see what he was doing, and waved the vorpal sword with reckless abandon furiously about in the air. In order to distract himself, he counted as high as he could.
"One, two!" He yelled, and upon realizing he'd reached the highest number known by him, he started over.
"One, two!"
Little did he know it, but the vorpal sword had pierced the monster through, and through again as he flailed around wildly. It had perpetrated a little snicker snacking of its own. The Jabberwocky was headless when he left it, and quite dead. He wiped the goop from the vorpal sword, sheathed it and galumphed back with the head in a smelly burlap bag.
"Did ye smite the Jabberwock?" asked the old man.
No answer was necessary, as the head of the thing was clearly mounted on a pike next to the porch stairs, opposite the hummingbird feeder.
"Give us a squeeze then, ye beamish whelp! 'Tis a frabjous day indeed, this!" The old man was riddled with joyful exuberance, and yelled "Callooh!" and "Callay!" alternately, in between mirthy chortles.
The wabe was awash in the sort of gimbleing and gyreing that so often permeates the slithy toves, especially on a balmy, brillig kind of a day. Even the borogoves were mimsy, and despite their usual cantankerousness the mome raths were positively outgrabe.
The Jabberwocky
Lewis Carroll
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Image and Reference: http://www.jabberwocky.com/carroll/jabber/jabberwocky.html
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