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The Browser
A respectful pastiche of Edgar Allen Poe by Andy Spencer

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, meek and bleary,
Over many a quaint and curious item in an online store
While I nodded, nearly sleeping, suddenly there came a beeping,
As of something slightly crashing, crashing and then skipping more.
"Tis some glitching," I muttered, "that's just computer law
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate glowing drive light wrought its ghost upon the wall.
Eagerly I clicked a weblink, vainly I had sought to webhost
A collection that did toast, toast the county Devon
For the rare and radiant area whom the angels name Devon
with her fine and beauteous views upon Heaven...

And the gentle clicking, uncertain ticking of my empty CD drive
Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some glitch that's making my laptop sore
Some annoying glitch that's making my laptop sore
This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“right,” said I, “upon my virus killer I now do implore,
To fix the little glitching, oh the problem so bewitching,
that is causing my lappie to break and my patience to tear.
Here is hoping the fix has worked” here I opened one window more...
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming of viruses no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken were the whispered words, "blue screen?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "blue screen!"
The most fearsome sight a nerd has seen.

Back into the Windows logging, all of my resources hogging,
Soon again I heard a beeping something louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something in Windows clogging;
Let me see, then, what the score is and this mystery explore
Let my Spybot fly and my Adaware move itself to the fore;
'Tis spyware and nothing more.

Open here I tried a window and with many a tone that sounded low,
In there opened a gleaming browser from the Mozilla store.
Not the least trouble made he; not a minute hung or stayed he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, took me to the Firefox tour,
FAQs, screenshots and downloads, the Firefox tour
Tis a guidance, nothing more.

Started the orange fox to goading, my image filled site to loading,
But then despite much trying my connection quickly tore,
Though thy site design be shiney, the file to work is sure not tiny,
why will you not work, you website, loading from Brittanic shore
Tell me what thy difficulty is, why wont you cache yet more?
Quoth the browser, "404."

But the browser, sitting lonely on that glowing screen, spoke only
That one number, as if its soul in that one number it did outpour
Nothing farther would it load, nothing fancy would it code
Till I scarcely more than muttered: "Other sites might load before
On the morrow it will give me, an unread email or four.
Quoth the Browser "404."

Startled at the stillness broken by a page so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters will not last too long more,
Care not I that techs are sleeping, my language soon will need some bleeping
Clicking refresh every second, thinking my net cannot be so poor
Till I plan, I plan most gravely throwing the router out the door.
Just to lose the “404”"

But the browser still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
As it struggles sadly failing to load even text not more;
As it's course is ever aimless, this poor browser, ever famous,
Fighting servers always dying , leaving the internet too sore
I begin to plotting damage to those who've spammed the core,
Forcing on me “404”

This I sat engaged in planning, their entrails I'd take to canning,
Those online brothers of breeders of junk mail dropping through my door;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the office chair my frame is resting, my eyes monitor raw,
But still I took to gazing at the monitor glowing, gloating o'er
Shouting out “404”

Then, methought, the air grew denser, it would never get in Mensa,
As my patience failed and mousemats and magazines were flung to the floor.
“For pity's sake” I did yell, maybe I should have gone to Dell
But even they could not fight against the unwritten online law
That makes the simple websurfer let out a lengthy roar
Quoth the browser, "404."

Finally I made to logoff, all the net can go and bog off,
Obviously after all this time my websurfing has hit the shore...
Desolate, and online lacking, how at work can I be slacking
My online home has shut me out and decided to lock and bar it's door
Perhaps it's time for me to remember that in real life I can do much more, than sit watching “404”.

And the Browser, never rend'ring, still is sitting, resolution unbending
On the flying laptop sat waiting on the desk beside my chamber door;
To start a chat don't “ASL” simply a hello to yell,
as I have now found a world outside my ever closed front door.
And my geeky literature sits vainly flapping upon the floor
Upload Andy? “404”