Once Upon a Big Egg Dreary
rating: +27+x

Written for LordStonefishLordStonefish as part of an unofficial gift-swap.

Parody of "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe

Based on Big egg


Once upon a Big egg dreary, while I masticated weary,
Over many a crisp and juicy omelette with a cheesy core—
While I clammered, nearly clanging, suddenly there came a banging,
Like a person I'd left hanging, hanging at the chamber door.
“’Just some personnel,” I sputtered, “hanging at the chamber door—
On the wrong containment floor.”

I remember pretty surely, I was up quite bright and early;
Having just assisted someone in MTF Eta-Four.
So I'd snuck into the kitchen;—seeking something to enrichen
My breakfast before my switch in—to room two seven one four—
For the reading and recording in room two seven one four—
Which was on a different floor.

And each oval in the carton did its very best to hearten
Me and my hand knitted tartan like I'd never been before;
So that in this hour witching, I stood at the table, twitching
“’Just some dumbass D-Class bitching cuz he's on an errant floor—
Or a researcher with munchies who is trying to implore;—
That is what it is, for sure.”

So I got a little braver; then deciding not to waver,
And I filled my mouth with flavor before heading to the door;
"You there, what's your level clearance? Come on, keep with the adherence,
Better make your disappearance from this here containment floor,
I can hear you, sneaky guy”— I said, as I unlatched the door;—
Empty hall and nothing more.

Down the hallway, both directions, I was making quick inspections,
Looking for those insurrections that had happened at the peg;
But the door was held and sturdy, not a peg missing of thirty,
So I sought the shifty birdie and called past the coffee keg
Making fun of lowly D-Class, “Come to me I humbly beg!”—
But no person stretched a leg.

So there I retired fuming, to the meal I'd be consuming,
Then there came a second booming at the kitchen's sturdy gate;
“Fucker,” said I, “of a mother, why must there now be another;
Let me see, then, what this other sound could possibly equate—
I'll be right with you, dear omelette, stay there still upon your plate;—
"No one's there!” I cried, irate.

So I flung the cabinets open, for some sign of life was hopin',
When I spotted in the corner of my eye something irreg;
No, the light was not projecting this image right there erecting;
I had happened on a specimen; a small pristine Big egg—
Quietly perched on a platter next to my right-sided leg—
Near the coffee in its keg.

Then the egg, it started moving to the music, swiftly grooving,
And I thought myself behooving as to keep the Big egg safe
Lest it fall and crack its shell or on some jagged surface chafe,
“Ok sure, you're pretty funny but you,” I said, “might be runny,
And your yolk is precious, honey, since your Bigness is so naif—
Tell me of your fowl maker, of your organ guarantor!”
Quoth the Big egg “Nevermore.”

I was visibly astounded, surely not the egg had sounded,
I was just being unbounded with my cuteness towards the dish;
The Big egg was quintessential, bursting egg with Big potential
Not the least bit differential, all an eating man could wish—
So I gathered up some spices and set them about the floor,
Which the Big egg did deplore.

So it started madly hopping, like a fish so fiercely flopping
With no earthly chance of stopping without triggering a war.
But it still was early morning and I'd have to start adjourning—
Or my boss would soon be scorning for the duties I ignore—
"When will that damn guy retire so I can be level four.”
Quoth the Big egg “Nevermore.”

Though my wit was rather glassy I could tell the egg was sassy,
“Okay,” said I, “this here lassy better learn some manners more
With an egg as Big as this one, I'd be wrong to say it is one
Likely now to make admission of the Bigness at its core—
Though its Egginess revealing, I find eggs to be appealing
And its Bigness I adore’.”

But the Big egg was so big and was becoming like a brigand
To me, snatch'd up my wig and tossed it gruffly on the floor;
However, not to sound perverse, I see that it could have been worse
My wig was simply borne of verse, it was poetic metaphor—
To show my utter consternation at the Big egg's short vocation
Of the pithy “Nevermore.”

I tried simply ascertaining that which needed more explaining
Was the Big egg's meaning feigning, was it seeking something more?
All of this I sat discerning without once my noggin turning
Till I thought a thought concerning, where the Big egg would explore;
Glances left and right confirming it was not here anymore;
Giving me another chore.

Over counters, under tables, past the baskets full of labels
Tangled up in oven cables, it was nowhere to be found
“Egg,” I cried, “Oh egg of Big—under every plate I'll dig
Until—Until I up your jig and toast you evenly till browned";
A crash, a crack, way in the back, and with a wack, I caught the round
It didn't even make a sound.

“Ovum!” said I, “membrane dweller!"—stood I, grabbing the de-sheller—
"I will take you to the cellar and store you among the wine!,
You may be Big but I am long, you may be egg but I am strong—
And so my life I will prolong by serving you in pickle brine—"
And then the worst thing I have ever witnessed started to arise
The egg was Biggening in size.

The egg had begun to increase its Bigness whole, not piece by piece
I knew that I would soon decease if I could not impede its motion—
And yet, then and there it stopped, my jaw and testicles both dropped,
The thing the egg was Bigging swapped, it now was Biggening its notion—
Making everything about it simply egg and only Big.
Big egg Big egg Big egg Big

Big egg Bigg’d, Big and eggly—egg and Big and egging Begly
Begged the egg “Egg Beg my Geg” he Bigly egged it on some more
“I cannot take the egg!” I shouted, “nor incessant Big” I spouted
Scampring all around I scouted for some thing to ease my sore
Till I found a cap of mnestics left forgotten on the floor.
Quoth me in the moment “Score!”

Popped a pill and then I waited, with a breath completely bated
And my headache was elated when there was no egg in store
All its Bigness was inverted, nothing was remotely hurted
Just me and a man, no-shirted, who was running out the door;
And I laid alone recalling, joyous to the point of balling
The big egg was nevermore.

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