Asmodean
2018-12-08 |  | Twas the Night B4 Friday... |  |
Edited and for spelling and updated for relevancy:
“T’was the night before Friday, and all through the house, not an I/O was stirring, not even the mouse. The suggestions were hung by the Help Center with care, in hopes that the game staff soon would be there. The newbies were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of pwnage danced in their heads. And BadWolf in her `kerchief, and Raistilin in his cap, had just settled down for a long VM nap. When out on the forum there arose such a clatter, I sprang from DP to see what was the matter. Away to the computer I flew like the Flash, Pulled up the browser and refreshed the cache. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, gave the luster of spacecrack to objects below. When what to my wondering eyes should beswirl, but a green honda hybrid, and eight tiny nerve-squirrels. And a little old driver, so lively and quick, I thought to myself, ` Malaysian saint nick`. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name. "Now Chess, now Spoon, now BadGuy and Ragnarok . On ArchAng3l, On GradualIncline, On Freya and Targs. To the top of the game lists, to the top of them all, Now edit away, edit away, edit away all !" As stoned ducks before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, So up to the server, the nerve squirrels they scurried, with a bag full of updates, and Stephen in a hurry. And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the chat, the pawing and gnawing of each mutant rat. As I opened a new tab, and was turning around, down the network, Stephen came with a bound. He was dressed all in cotton, from his head to his knees, and his clothes were all tarnished with source code and cheese. A bundle of macros he had flung on his shoulder, and he looked like a trekkie at a convention in Boulder. His eyes how they darted, his pimples how merry, his cheeks, they bore claw marks, from the squirrels oh so hairy..." |
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Asmodean
99+ day(s) ago | Reference to the original, unedited version, and a great story in general:
http://mirror.uncyc.org/wiki/Galactic_conquest |
Asmodean
99+ day(s) ago | "...The soldering iron, he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, tweaked all the values, and turned with a jerk. And laying a finger aside of his nose, and expelling some phlegm, up the air duct he rose. He spang to his honda, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew, like a squirrel powered missile. But I heard him type, ere he logged out of sight. "Merry update to all, and to all a good fight!" |
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