Late Voicemail

Voicemail sent Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Sent 8:00 a.m.
Received 9:55 a.m.

Friend of Editor:

Hello, [Editor]? It's me, [Guyname]. Hey, I know you help with that like, 100 Hour thing...right? I remember reading one post about that Limerist guy, and I'm in the JFSB right now, and he put a poem on the board! Are you guys doing a scavenger hunt or something?

[pause, mumbling]

Sorry, my shoelace was untied. Hah. Okay, so if you're doing a scavenger hunt thing, I want it to be known that I was here first! Look, I'll even read it to prove it to you -

Oh, Board! Let my clarion call
Find its way to those doomed to fall!
For it seems that your fate
Is in pitiable state
And for three there is no hope at all.

Even now, as I fight the great fight
For the freedom of wit and of light,
The Board is consumed,
Soon forever entombed
By cybernetic forces of night.

I now speak of those three once more
Who have yet to feel tendril or spore...
Though you're different in style,
Resistance is futile
And your assimilation is sure.

The Monk is the first one to go,
A mild-mannered soul meek and low.
He stands for emotion
But soon he'll have none
As the collective hive mind will grow.

The Rebel is also ensnared,
Though she travels where none else have dared;
She'll be caught by surprise
With wool over her eyes
For the Borg she is quite unprepared.

The Dark Lord is last on the list;
He also has no chance to resist.
For your capture prepare,
Or resist, if you dare;
You are warned by -

The Mad Limerist!

[pause]

Huh. You know, as far as limericks go, that one didn't really make a whole lot of sense. I think that -

[low, indistinct voice is heard]

Oh, uh, where? I really dunno. Never met the guy. I found it right here...Yep...How long? I'm not sure, I don't come up this hallway often, I just had to turn in a paper today, and -

Hey, where'd he go?

[silence]

...That was odd. Well...let me know if I get a prize or something. Gotta run!

[click]