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- Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
- Path: sparky!uunet!utcsri!torn!watserv2.uwaterloo.ca!watserv1!lstewart
- From: lstewart@watserv1.uwaterloo.ca (L. Stewart -- IS Office 1058)
- Subject: Autumn
- Message-ID: <Bu29us.GC7@watserv1.uwaterloo.ca>
- Organization: University of Waterloo
- Date: Fri, 4 Sep 1992 16:01:39 GMT
- Lines: 42
-
- September arrived and the winds were brisk. There was a
- special tang of anticipation in the air. The campus had
- been tidied, the trim painted and the pyres disposed of
- in appropriate receptacles. Countless keyboards sat and
- waited for the loving hands to arrive. The labs were up
- and the consultants were ready.
-
- The gates opened and thousands of young, hopeful people
- poured through. They were ready and even eager to spill
- their virginity on the grounds of the nearest local bar
- with any suitable person willing to engage them in that
- famous act. The facial detergents flowed, the boasts of
- conquest were prepared. But a cloud came low and dark.
-
- A pink windowless van arrived piloted by a mystic, dark
- eyed stranger. The van pulled to a stop near the stairs
- of the dorms. A plump fellow stepped forth and read all
- of the words from a card.
-
- Know ye fear all who enter for the word of the stranger
- is quince and by the mark of the fruit is he to be kept
- and his ways shall be your ways as the tooter of fancor
- is projected on the walls behind your sleeping heads so
- go now to your beverage halls and weep in selection and
- prize your solitude for the old ways are hard and these
- oldenbies are soft and tread not the path of xanth most
- spackled and fecal nor wander the roads of carasso that
- lead to bent knees for intrusion for the undergraduagte
- god is called gooley and that lap is never soiled by an
- agile hostess and shall ever be manual the standard.
-
- And yea though I wade through the postings of crud I am
- reduced to wonder to stare at a battle of pud spankings
- between rdc and kpd and lo the newbies shiver in a fear
- quickened sweat as the letterman cross-posts sink thick
- like dac's ego in the shadow of cascades and seldom are
- richh's pearls to be gleaned for the n key is soon worn
- and my eyes cloud over with longing for dominus' or sho
- but I fear in my heart that the freshmen will pass like
- wind from the butt of the yak and be too seldom set out
- from the geeking spittle that gloats through the dark.
-
-