Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

The Pretzel (A Parody of "The Raven")

Once upon a playthrough endless, while I wandered, weak and restless,

Over many a queer and suspicious comment of stream chat's device—

While I sighed, nearly napping, suddenly there came a slapping,

As of something gently flapping, flapping by that boulder.

"'Tis some parasaur," I muttered, "napping by that boulder—

Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I recall – I was there, I saw it all;

And each second passing my mind replays the fall.

Tearfully I fought the madness;—raging from my own badness

Gritting my teeth against the sadness—sadness for the lost Pretzel—

For the rare and radiant quetzal whom the streamers name Pretzel—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the salt-filled, sad, weather that rustled each golden feather

Chilled me—filled me with horrific angers never known before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

"'Tis some parasaur devouring berries by that boulder—

Some late parasaur crunching on berries by that boulder;—

This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your rustling I abhor;

But the fact is I was nearly napping, and so rudely you came slapping,

And so loudly you came flapping, scrapping by that boulder,

That I wonder if I should spare you"—here I walked around the boulder;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness debating, long I stood there scheming, hating,

Doubting, thinking thoughts no Chocobo ever dared to think before;

But the anger stayed unshooken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Pretzel?"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Pretzel!"—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back behind the boulder turning, all my soul within me yearning,

Soon again I heard a flapping somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something near that rex;

Let me see, then, check it next, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a second and this mystery explore;—

'Tis a compy and nothing more!"

Here I couldn't help but sputter, when, with many a screech and flutter,

Over soared a stately Argie of the bloody hills of gore;