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The Bills
by Edgar Allen Sauron
See the mailbox with the bills,
Visa bills!
What a world of merriment the envelope foretells!
One of spending, spending, spending,
Almost every single night!
While through the malls you're wending
With credit card delight;
Buying stuff, stuff, stuff;
In a sort of frantic huff.
In a giant feeding frenzy that would give a sane man chills!
From the bills, bills, bills, bills
bills, bills, bills.
From the making and the paying of the bills.
See the mailbox stuffed with bills,
Water bills!
What a tale of liquid waste the written figures tell!
From the faucet that won't stop,
Even when you shut it off!-
Wafts the molten-liquid notes,
Of the drip,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the insomniac that listens, while he stares
At the roof!
Oh, from out the sounding sink,
What a wondrous symphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the morning!--How it tells
Of the coffee that you'll drink
As you're making and you're paying
For the bills, bills, bills, bills--
Bills, bills, bills.
For the making and the paying of the bills.
See the mailbox full of bills,
Electric bills!
What a tale of kilowatts the little numbers tell!
When the figures hit your sight,
How you scream out your affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
You can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a minor fit of madness, now, you call up TPL,
In a final, frantic effort, now, to stop the flow of bills
Piling higher, higher, higher
Like a kind of funeral pyre.
But with resolute endeavor
Now--now to pay or never,
You write checks till your face is blue.
For the bills, bills, bills!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they cost, and mount, and cost!
But the money you out pour
Disappears into the vacuum of the night.
Yet the wallet fully knows,
By the op'ning
And the closing,
How the money ebbs and flows.
And the wallet yet can tell,
By the op'ning
And the closing,
How the money ebbs and flows,
By the sinking and the swelling of the omnipresent bills--
Of the bills,--
Of the bills, bills, bills, bills,
Bills, bills, bills.
By the making and the paying of the bills.
See the phone bell ring with calls--
Warning calls!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every note that floats
From the dust within your throat,
Is a groan.
And the callers--bill collectors,
They that feed on errant payers,
All alone,
And who calling, calling, calling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone--
They are neither man or woman--
They are neither brute nor human--
They are Ghouls:--
And their King it is who calls--
As he calls, calls, calls,
For money for the bills!
And his merry stomach swells
With the money from the bills!
And he dances, and he yells;
Making calls, calls, calls,
Mostly during suppertime,
Wanting money for the bills
For the bills, bills, bills---
For the paying of the bills;
Making calls, calls, calls,
As he yells, yells, yells.
In a happy Runic rhyme,
For the paying of the bills--
Of the bills, bills, bills--
For the paying of the bills--
Of the bills, bills, bills, bills,
Bills, bills, bills--
To the making and the paying of the bills.
**     STOOPS.STD          10/23/85 19:19 Writer's block
           Writer's Block
   (to the tune of "Jingle Bells")
   Staring at the screen,
   With a totally blank mind.
   Trying hard to think,
   And slowly going blind!
   Brain won't seem to work,
   Hands are sluggish, too.
   I'd wish I'd think of something great,
   But mediocre'd do.
   Writer's block!  Writer's block!
   Can't think of a thing!
   What a drag,
   To have to sit,
   And stare here at the screen!
   Writer's block!  Writer's block!
   Can't think of a thing!
   What a drag,
   To have to sit,
   And stare here at the screen!
      I, Sauron, have lamented.
*     STOOPS.STD          01/13/86 16:54
City of Keene Police Dept.
Memo to Mayor
RE: Accident on July 15, 1985
Dear Sir:
   I believe that the circumstances surrounding the accident on the corner of
Magnolia and Old Betsy points out some serious deficiencies in our safety
measures in this city.
   We have yet to discover just who the herd of cows belong to, and why they
were attempting to graze in the middle of the street.  The flock of ducks,
however, are more readily traceable.  It is recommended that a Police Officer
be sent to the Student Park and warn them against illegal migrations using city
   The tractor involved which accidentally plowed up a considerable stretch of
road had been impounded pending payment by the farmer for the road.  It is
urged that all further tractor activity be restricted to non-road areas.
   Unfortunately, the insurance company has refused to pay for the patrol car
that was struck by the meteorite while in transit to the scene.  Since they
claimed that it was an act of God, and therefore not covered in or policy, we
have forwarded the bill to the Keene Seventh-day Adventist Church.
   If your office comes across any information as to the owner of the semi is, we
would appreciate it.  It is still lodged in the stage of Leiske-Pultar Auditorium,
and we are unable to move it without a driver.
   Thank you very much for your prompt attention.
           Keene Police.
 *     STOOPS.STD          01/15/86 12:49 Guns
*****    Sauron
   Here is something from Galadriel to brighten your day, and
give you food for thought:
   "You always get more with a gun and a smile
than just with a smile."
        I, Sauron, have spoken for Galadriel.
*     STOOPS.STD          02/20/86 10:37
  Gonna lay down my floppies,
  Down by the BTI!
  Down by the BTI!
  Down by the BTI!
  Gonna lay down my floppies,
  Down by the BTI!
  Ain't gonna study core no more.
  Well, I ain't gonna study core no more,
  Ain't gonna study core no more.
  Ain't gonna study core no more.
  Well, I ain't gonna study core no more,
  Ain't gonna study core no more.
  Ain't gonna study core no more.
     I, Sauron, have spoken.
**    STOOPS.STD          11/03/87 18:20 Life
*****    Sauron.Mordor
   If life were meant to be taken
seriously, then the universe wouldn't
be made of partycles.
    I, Sauron, have spoken.
*     STOOPS.STD          10/02/87 10:20 Class...
*****    Sauron.Mordor
   It was Tuesday, and Fred sat in class, watching the second hand
slowly wind its way toward the 12.  Only 1 hour and 19 minutes until
class let out...
   " force over distance, which is different from power, which is force
over area.  Now, some of you may be a bit confused by this, so I'll try to
explain it a different way.  Say you're pushing a rock..."
   Fred strained.  The rock was heavy, but it was starting to move.
He could feel the cool breeze coming from behind the rock, the breeze
signifying the cave that the map had said was there.
   The rock moved.  It was just a few inches, but it left a crack big enough
for him to squeeze into.
   The cave had been well hidden, and even with the map, had been hard
to find.  But the makers of the cave (the same ones who hid the treasure
inside it) hadn't realized that they would have to deal with the
ingenuity and daring of Oklahoma Fred, the most dashing and famous
of archaeologists.
   He forced his way in, and found himself in a small antechamber. 
There it was.  Written on the wall, were the instructions on how to find
the treasure of Velcrofly, the ancient Mayan king.
   They were clever, these Mayans.  Anyone else would have expected the
symbols to be translated directly into the Mayan language.  However,
Fred was smarter than that.  Almost intuitively, he first cross-
referenced all the symbols in his handy Sanscrit Dictionary, and then
re-translated the resulting text into Rastafarian.  He looked at the
translation.  It almost made sense!  He studied it closer, trying to
understand th cryptic message...
"Whouldu plez eekspl ain..."
   "the difference between power and work, Fred?"
      I, Sauron, have spoken.
*     STOOPS.STD          11/23/87  0:12 Soap
*****    Sauron.Mordor
   You may have been wondering about (or reveling in) the strange
silence of the Mordor Communications Network as of late.  Well,
we here at the MCN feel that it is our duty to bring you the very
best in mail entertainment.
   In keeping with this sense of duty, we were pleased when, a few
weeks ago, one of our young writers came up with an idea so stunning, so
profound, so mind-provoking that we threw all our time and effort into it. 
Those weeks of seeming silence were actually filled with sleepless nights &
sweat-filled days, with no time to wash or bathe, with meals of hastily
prepared Limburger cheese sandwiches on garlic bread, washed down with
onion soup, as we locked ourselves into our studio to bring you what could
very possibly be the epic to end all epics, the story of stories, a tale that is so
grand, so enormous, so filled with passion, lust, heroism and greed that only
a sentence this long could describe it.  Yes, we here at MCN are now proud
to bring you:
                       ~*GRADES OF WRATH~*
   Yes, you will witness the epic struggle of students fighting to
survive against incredible odds.  You will see:
   LuAnn Venden running arms to the Contras to pay her school bill.
   Erik Harrison, as he runs amok in Health Science, gunning down helpless
   Anna Simpson as she valiantly fights off officials from the Department of
   Kendall Brown, rescued as a child from the apes in Africa, struggling to
cope with his humanity and lust for bananas.
   T’resa Noodel recoil as she discovers the shocking truth about her birth.
   Dr. Marvin Anderson frolicking in the sun.
Yes, stay tuned soon for:
coming soon to a terminal near you.
         I, Sauron, have spoken.
12 days of Christmas
 On the 1st day of Christmas, my computer gave to me,
    A bug in my binary tree.
 [yadda yadda yadda]
 On the 12th day of Christmas, my computer gave to me,
   Twelve hours waiting,
   Eleven programs missing,
   Ten SCREDIT lockups,
   Nine PUBLISH failures,
   Eight OPR EVICTs,
   Seven smoking ESPRITs,
   Six garbled papers,
   Five failed logons.
   Four lost files,
   Three stuck keys,
   Two system crashes,
   And a bug in my binary tree.
       Merry Feast of the Pig.
       I am Sauron.
*     STOOPS.STD          02/04/88 21:59 Epic
*****    Sauron.Mordor
  And now, just as you were hoping that it was over,
                       ~*GRADES OF WRATH~*
Chapter III
   Scott walked down the ruins of the campus.  Small trails of
smoke slowly rose from the jumbled pile of brick and wood that
was once Heritage Hall. There was no trace of the Ad Building,
and Scales Hall was just a hole in the ground.
   Who knows how the riot had started?  An elbow misplaced, a
misspoken word, maybe a rumor.  But, no matter, it had started. 
Weeks of study with no break, weekends of Marilyn Monroe
movies in the Student Center, and too many "Ya knows" from
Dr. Sicher had brought the campus to a height of volatility it had
never been seen before.  And now, this, the logical conclusion of
this whole semester.  A riot of horrible proportions.
   Scott had seen the whole thing, from when the flood of
students first burst from the Student Center, to when they ran
Dr. Anderson up the flag pole (He was still up there, madly
flapping in the breeze).  He had seen the destruction of Scales
and Heritage, and had stood in disbelief as they carried off the
Ad Building to God only knew where.
   And then, he had seen heroism beyond description.  As the
mob of crazed students advanced on the Cafeteria, Mrs. Simpson
stepped out.  Arms folded, with a rolling pin in one hand and a
vegeburger in the other, she had faced the crowd.  And,
unbelievably, the crowd turned away.  They had went on to
ravage other parts of Keene, leaving the Cafeteria untouched.
   It was night now, and Scott could see a red glow off towards
Cleburne.  The mob was growing, and already the National
Guard had been unable to stop them.  What would they do next?
   As Scott surveyed the damage, saw the bodies littering the
campus, and heard an occasional gunshot (probably some poor
soul trying to protect his house from the inevitable looters) a
thought went through his mind.  A burning question.  One which
he must have answered.
   Is the Computer Club still going out Saturday Night?
      I, Sauron, have spoken.
*     STOOPS.STD          03/01/88 23:24 Junk
*****    Sauron.Mordor
       Vapor Lock
(Written during a late-night ‘bout
 with writer's block)
I sit before this screen and think,
Of things I want to say.
Of tears and fears,
Things far and near,
I think of what I may.
I try to put down all my thoughts,
To see them on the screen.
I sit and stare,
Off in the air,
My thoughts run off, unseen.
And so I sit here, my ears numb,
From hearing this thing beep.
My mind is froze,
I start to doze,
I think I'll go to sleep.
      I am Sauron.
  He saw an endless sea, and wondered what was beyond.
   And people laughed.
   He dared the queen's wrath to satisfy curiosity.
   And people laughed.
   He attemped the impossible.
   And people laughed.
   He tried to cross the endless sea.
   And people laughed.
   He forgot his boat.
   And people laughed.
He tried to use the computer.
And people laughed.
He tried to send a message in the mail system.
And people laughed.
He dared the wrath of the computer center using mail for two hours.
And people laughed.
He sent out jokes -
And people didn't laugh.
            (No hard feelings, Sauron. I just couldn't resist!)
                               CER   (Carol Routon) 
**    STOOPS.STD          03/08/88 21:08 Roomies
*****    Sauron.Mordor
The Roommate
Once upon a midnight dreary, While I studied, weak and weary,
Over a chapter that I would swear that I had never seen before.
While I thought "This subject's boring", Through my head a sound came
As of some big airplane soaring, soaring with a fearsome roar.
"'Tis the Janitor", I muttered, "Vacuuming outside my door--
                    Only this and nothing more."
But the sound came from behind me, Like some god send to remind me,
Of my frivolous excuses for the classes I had skipped before.
"Surely," said I, "Surely there is nothing here to make that sound;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore--
                    'T is the wind and nothing more."
So I let my will grow stronger, hesitating then no longer,
I turned and looked into the darkness, searching for that steady roar.
On his bed, my roommate, snoring, was the source of all that roaring,
Of the noise that caused me this night all my studies to forbore.
"I will kill him", then I muttered, "That should even out the score."
                    My roommate kept up the snore.
Ah, distinctly I remember, how I wanted to dismember,
My poor roommate, and to leave his body lying on the floor.
Eagerly I grabbed some stockings, Hoping with some makeshift blocking,
Stop the sound until the morrow, when from someone I would borrow,
Earplugs or some earmuffs, something that would dull the roar,
                    Of my roommate's dreadful snore.
So I crept up close beside him, striving for the utmost silence,
Hoping any sound that I made would be covered by his snore.
Soon his lower jaw went drooping, and I quickly seized my op'ning,
Stuffed into his mouth the socks that I had this same morning wore.
Into his poor mouth I stuffed the socks that I this morning wore.
                    So he snored then nevermore.
     I, Sauron, have spoken
Unearthed writings of Wes Stoops, Esq.
(nom de plume Sauron)
[an expurgated version containing absolutely no gannets]
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