Sure, magic was interesting enough, but Strong Sad's true love was poetry, and it was high time he held one of his fabled
poetry slams. He was sure that some students, and maybe even a professor or two, held the same adoration of rhyme, the same devotion to meter, the same respect for depressing themes that he did
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Comments 48
"Hi! I'm Morfin! I'm a Hufflepuff!" He waved to the elephantine creature who seemed to be the only person present, and who indeed sounded quite depressed.
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"Um...hi. Ummmmm...I'm Strong Sad, and I'm a Gryffindor. Did you have some emo poetry you wanted to recite? Maybe a limerick...or free verse...an epic poem...or even an acrostic poem?" He looked at Morfin expectantly (well, as expectantly as a guy whose facial expression hardly changes can get).
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He took a deep breath and recited the following:
"He babbles fool-like
As if his head is empty
Forced to DJ, woe!"
He sighed again and then stood there staring at Morfin.
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Yay poetry!
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"That was pretty cool," she agreed, beaming at Strong Sad. Then she turned her smile on Phoebe. "Hi, I'm Jilly. I don't think we've met."
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Noticing the guitar, he added, "Are you going to freestyle to music?" Oh, no, please don't let this be a Coach Z type of thing. Please don't let him rap about hip-hop dances.
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"And you certainly can write poems about people's intestines being pulled out of their nose. In fact, I think Strong Bad tried to do that to me one time." Well, Strong Sad didn't really have a nose, but...he was sure something like this had once happened to him. It was just so hard to keep track of the multitude of abuses Strong Bad heaped on him on a daily basis! "Here, I'll show you."
Strong Sad cleared his throat and recited,
"A boxing glove approaches my face.
Will it punch me?
Or will it reach into one of my orifices?
Time will only tell
whether it is my lungs he is aiming for
or whether he prefers my intestines.
It's also possible he might be faking me out
so he can instead slam The Cheat into my face
with his other hand.
Ah, 9:32 am pummeling.
You are the most mysterious of all!Strong Sad took a moment ( ... )
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"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
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Still, he didn't want to seem unwelcoming, so he added, "If you need more inspiration, I could recite something else for you. I've got a limerick about when my bellybutton got drilled into my stomach." He sighed heavily.
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"Sorry man. You scared me there." Calmly, he took his towel off of his head. "I thought you might have been a Vogon," Ford added, as though that wasn't already obvious. "You aren't are you? Or like... half-Vogon?" He'd never heard of a half-Vogon. They probably didn't exist as the concept implied that some other species would have to actually mate with a Vogon.
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Already, he was composing a bit of free verse in his head about how he was constantly a victim of mistaken identity when he noticed Ford's towel. "Oh, no! You're not a coach, are you? Because I am not cramming any oom-pah down my pants and climbing up a rope, no matter how hard you try to persuade me. I don't even wear pants!"
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