I am usually no fan of poetry, but this is so awesome:
Once inside a game store dreary, while I pondered, obese and bleary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of Greyhawk lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my game store door.
" ‘Tis some bill collector," I muttered, "tapping at my game store door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying game line wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From the bank surcease of debt load, debt load for this poor game store
For the small and creaky business that people called eyesore
In the red since two thousand four.
Read the rest of this piece of art at RPG Blog II!