The Telemarketer,
someone's verson of The Raven, inspired by true events
by Jedger Ballan Hidypoe

Once upon a 9'o'clock morning bleary, while I got up, weak and weary,
Over many a misplaced and irritating obstacles of forgotten furniture,
While I stumbled, nearly falling, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one loudly gangsta rapping, rapping from my cellphone ring.
`'Tis some annoying telemarketer,' I muttered, `rapping from my cellphone ring -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, rather blurredly I...sort of...remember it was in the bright November,
And each separate to loud alarm wrought its infuriateingly loud noise upon the eardrum.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - Happily I had remembered tomorrow
was friday, not filled of sorrow - sorrow for the lost eternal bore -
For boring and pathetic class whom the angels named 7th Spanish -
Annoying me for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain speaking of each sylable spoken
bored me - filled me with annoyance felt often a lot before;
So that now, to still the gangsta rapping of my phone, I stood, walking
`'Tis some telemarketer entreating commerce at my cellphone, what a bore -
Some late telemarketer entreating commerce at my cellphone, what a bore,; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my anger grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`telephone,' said I, `or telelmarketer, truly your lack of noise I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came gangsta rapping,
And so faintly you came rapping, rapping at my chamber ring,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the cellphone...flippy thingy; -
A Telemarketer there, and nothing more.

Deep into that Telelmarketer Listening, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only words there spoken was the whispered words, `This is going to be a bore!!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `but wait, there's more!!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my cellphone silenced ,me burning,
Soon again I heard a gangsta rapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my cellphone calling;
Let me hear then, who thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis some guy and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the flippy thingy, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there spoke a commercial telemarketer of the non-automated days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, spoke into my somewhat annoyed ear -
spoke into a eardrum of Bryce just next to my outer ear -
spoke, and spoke, and nothing more.

Then this anoying guy beguiling my sad fancy into buying,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy voice be boring and tedious, thou,' I said, `art sure no machine.
Ghastly and ancient commercialism calling from the nightly shift -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's commercialist shift!'
Quoth the telemarketer, `But wait, There's more.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly man, foul to hear, discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with talking guy inside his cellphone flippy thingy -
Bird or beast above the human ear next to his cellphone flippy thingy,
With such name as `but wait, there's more.'

But the telemarketer, talking lonely into the irritated ear, spoke only,
far to many words, as if his soul in those many words he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a syllable then he spoke -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other telemarketers have been bored before -
On the minute he will leave me, as my hopes have been met before.'
Then the guy said, `but wait, there's more.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so unfortunately spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom told him to cause commercialist disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the cents of his paycheck that melancholy burden bore
Of "but wait-but wait, there's more."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned earplug in front of phone and ear and flippy door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous guy of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous guy of yore
Meant in yelling `But wait, there's more.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the guy whose imposing tone now burned into my ear's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, But wait, There's more!

Then, I thought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by...something...whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the Telemarketer, `But wait there's more.'

`Telemarketer!' said I, `thing of evil! - Telemarketer still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Telemarketer!' said I, `thing of evil! - telemarketer still, if some guy or answering machine!
By that common decency about us - by that giant flying spaghetti monster we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall skip a boreing class whom the teachers named spanish -
skip a rare and boring class, whom the teachers named spanish?'
Quoth the telemarketer, `But wait, there's more.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, guy or machine!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's digital shore!
Leave no infernal word as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my possible boredom unbroken! - quit the phone at my ear!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the Telemarketer, `But wait, there's more.'

And the telemarketer, never flitting, still is talking, still is talking
in the battery dead phone of mine just inside my box of useless stuff;
And his voice has all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the bad connection o'er him streaming throws his voice on the static;
And my boredom from out that Spanish that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted now - but, darn it, theres more!