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Finally at last! July 18, 2006

Posted by eric22222 in General, Personal Favorites.
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Currently listening to: “The Power Of Your Love” by Lincoln Brewster

Last night, I recited my poem to the team. I think Brad was the only one who had heard it before. (Cross-reference) After Brad read his poem to us a few weeks back, I was asked to read mine. We didn’t have enough time that day, so I put it off. This continued for a while, until we finally had a time where we remembered and were able to hear it. And now I’m going to post it online for all to see. First things first, though. You need to be versed in all the CSC jokes that are used (here at Eric Online, we don’t discriminate against non-CSCers; this is an equal opportunity blog).

  • Brad occasionally breaks out into broken English
  • EVERYBODY has worked at Fed-Ex at one time or another
  • The duck of doom – the most powerful card in one the best card games ever
  • This was written around the time of Norris-mania
  • As Brad informs us everytime we see him, “Cars are bad.
  • The part about the “whoosh” sound… that should be read as “krsrsshw”
  • And there’s probably a few more in there

To get to the poem, you’ll need to click “more.” I recently found this nifty little feature. It’ll save loads of space. I should’ve used it for the spam post. In fact, I’ll go fix that now. Here, read the poem ’til I get back.

It was a day like any other
At the Christian Student Center,
Where Christian sisters and brothers
Lounged after the long winter.

But no one knew what lurked below
Deep beneath the earth,
An evil genius was about to show
Just what his plans were worth.

But that comes later, at the ending part
To which we now endeavor
So listen close for now we start
The greatest poem ever.

Everybody was together,
In the kitchen making lunch,
Talking over which is better:
Kool-aid or Hawaiian Punch.

Their arguments were ranging
From stats of sales to taste
Opinions ever changing
On the drink to be embraced.

“Kool-aid just has to be the best,”
Said a sophomore slicing bread.
“It’s the only drink that I’ll ingest,
Simple as that,” the student said.

“Preposterous!” A voice did shout,
While cutting heads of lettuce.
“Sales alone, as you’ll find out,
Won’t always lead to status.”

“But what of taste?” another chimed
Making cheese cubes fit to savor.
“Kool-aid, I think, right now is primed
With all its many flavors.”

Another said “Too hard to choosing!”
While tending an oven fire.
“Too many choices can be confusing
To any thirst-ridden buyer.”

Their arguments lasted ‘til evening time
When the sun was getting low.
They had moved out to the lawn to find
A crater starting to glow.

A low-pitch hum had drawn their concern
To the CSC’s front yard
Where this shining hole had managed to earn
The group’s unwavering regard.

Easily, it was six feet wide
And far too deep to guess.
It was smooth and sleek along the side
A display of metallurgic finesse.

Solid steel, they had to guess
Was what the pit was made.
But because the hole strangely fluoresced,
They kept themselves away.

One spoke up from the Kool-aid side,
“I should’ve expected this much.
“This is all your doing!” he unknowingly lied
“Only the Punchers would do as such.”

“You’re the ones at fault! I’m sure!”
A Hawaiian Punch-drinker exclaimed.
“Only the Koolies would be so immature!”
And he pointed his finger in blame.

“Oh, yeah right,” said a Kool-aid lover,
As the ground began to shake.
The arguments ceased as they all took cover
From the arbitrary quakes.

They all remained panicked yet eerily quiet
As they cowered behind the picnic table.
A fairly rickety bunker, but they remained by it
Hoping it remained stable.

Finally the source of the seismic stir
Noticeably made itself known.
A column of exhaust erupted from the earth
With another low-pitched groan.

They made their way back indoors,
Away from the pillar of smoke.
The surrounding grass was a tad bit scorched,
From the heat the pit evoked.

The CSCers all sat around,
Watching the smoky emission.
There was a constant and annoying “whoosh” sound
And it obstructed the window vision.

They remained inside until the rut had stopped
By a doorbell ring from the door.
A package outside on the porch was propped
By Fed-ex delivery, of course.

A CD encased in bubble wrap
Was put in a CD player.
The play button was given a little tap
And a sinister voice filled the air:

“Greetings to you, CSC.
I’ll get on down to brass tacks.
Your lawn is now part of my industry
And another deduction to tax.

My name is Lou Camaro
Net worth in the billions.
President and CEO
Of Bright Car Inc. Co. & Sons.

We make cars down underground
To keep the paint from sunlight.
Our cars’ paint-jobs are world-renowned
For not fading and being bright.

We’ve had to expand our facilities
To increase our mass production
And I know it may be a pity,
But we’ll need to begin destruction

Of your much-loved student center
To widen our company’s span.
This has been in works since winter;
We cannot change the plans.

So I suggest you evacuate quickly
Before our next cooling tower is built.
We’re sticking to schedule strictly
And the ground is being drilled.

Your building will be rubble
By twelve o’clock tonight.
So leave now, on the double,
And move on with your lives.”

The CSC was in shock
About the news they had come to know
And looking at the nearby clock,
They had only three hours to go.

They knew what they had to do,
Their most important duty:
Find this businessman Lou
And save the CSC.

In unison, two students said
“Follow me, I know the way!”
And in opposite directions they started to head.
Walking through different hallways.

Looking back, they saw that not a
Student was following.
They ran back to get more to head
For where they were each going.

After a brief dispute and fight,
The problem was revealed:
Their differing taste was the plight.
That reoccurring deal.

But through discussion and listening
They put aside their differences.
With their ideas so cunning,
They arrived at an answer:

They’d work together to stop this man
From destroying the CSC.
They’d keep him from realizing his plan
Together, as a family.

They stated “Jesus on three!”
And put their hands all together
With a count off and call, they ran got the key
To the locked basement door downstairs.

In opening the door,
A cool wind rushed out.
It chilled to the core;
Many turned and fled out.

But the most able pressed on
For the sake of their friends
Seeing the door farther on,
They resumed their descent.

A large door of pine
Was the next trial in turn.
Opening it was in mind,
But there was no knob to turn.

With a collaborative effort,
They tried to kick down the door.
No one’s foot was hurt,
So they kicked it some more.

Eventually it fell
With a bit of luck.
And on the other side,
Awaited a duck.

Not a threat, they knew,
So they continued down
Facing fairly weak dangers:
Turtles, mildew, clowns.

A bit anticlimactic,
Yes, I know.
But would I really want things too hectic?
Of course not; no.

So finally they reached their destination:
The factory at last.
Where they’d try to do some negotiations
With that CEO, and fast.

This manufacturing plant was about
A mile long, however,
One vertical feature did stand out:
A tall control tower.

They climbed the long and winding stairs
Up to the tower’s door,
Without looking down, they walked in there
To the control room floor.

A button labeled “reverse the drill”
Seemed it would suffice.
Pressing it would save Knoxville;
A convenient plot device.

With the drilling impeded
They found the “restart drill” button
And they knew they needed
To keep it from being turned on.

With a nearby screwdriver
They pried it out
And left the tower
For the exit route.

They neared the exit easily
With victory attained.
It all just seemed too easy,
But they weren’t going to complain.

Things, of course, aren’t always
As easy as they seem;
The exit was suddenly set ablaze
By a security scheme.

“Leaving are you?”
Said a Bond-villianesque voice
“And after trespassing too!
Not a very wise choice…

I suppose you think you’re rather clever,
But I hold all the cards.
The drill’s still going, fast as ever,
And I’ve already called my guards.

This is my most advanced device,”
He said, holding up a remote
“It controls all the functions of my factory
And has a travel-size tote.”

With a push of the control,
The guards made their descent
Down firemen’s poles
The CSC knew what this meant.

They wouldn’t be able to stop this man
From what he was going to do.
He’d won; he’d carry out his plans
And the CSC would be through.

Insurmountable forces surrounded the team.
Escape could not be done.
Hope was lost, is how it seemed.
Lou Camaro had won.

Each of them nameless
And faceless to match
Had come to the fight.
The CSC was outmatched.

Like tidal waves of villainy,
They crashed over the group.
This flood of evil
Trouncing our troops.

So how did we prevent
Those waves crashing o’er us?
Well, I’ll give you one hint:
It didn’t involve Chuck Norris.

The CSC withdrew from the fight
To the tower from where they just came.
Did the controls still work? Well, not quite.
But it was shelter, all the same.

The CEO’s remote
Trumped the tower’s controls.
That they’d tire after their foes
Was their only attainable goal.

But then their saving grace,
A rescuer from above
In each CSCers face
You could see what they were proud of.

A tidal wave of cars
Poured from production.
And from over the support bars,
More fell towards the henchmen.

The CSCers knew the purpose
For this unexpected jam.
Their brethren on the surface
Threw a wrench into the plans.

A clogged cooling tower
In the CSC front yard
Caused a sudden shower
On the factory guards.

Climbing from the booth up top
One CSCer caught site
Of some buttons attached to a metal box
And a single blinking light.

He picked up the remote and hit the key
To shut down the giant drill.
The group had saved the CSC
And headed back uphill.

Back on the ground a welcome party
Was waiting for the team.
They all shared their adventure stories
Over a pitcher of sweet iced tea.

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Comments»

1. tammy - July 18, 2006

MAGNIFICENT! BRAVO!! FANTASTIC!!! I just love poems! This one was a good story too. Reminds me of good ole’ Shakespeare! Good job Dobbs!


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