Promises, promises must be kept,
To Venus it seems I’m always in debt
She’s posted, huzzah! and it’s time to review
Bergey I’m not, this is the best I can do!
She starts with a bang, not a whimpering refrain,
With elegant description of lightning and rain,
The magic is gone for poor forlorn guy, Fry.
And I’m struck with a sadness for the grief-stricken b’y.
Newfoundlandese in a PEELer thread now!
I’ll drop it right quick, girl, so don’t have a cow!
The Simpson’s refs start invading the place
But you can’t yell at me, I’ve got boobs and some grace.
Away from the in-jokes, to the fanfic now turn
Dear Fry’s weary watching doth make mine heart burn
Breathing’s the only task Leela can do,
And if she should cease, it’s all over, it’s through.
Your story is poignant, you constantly amaze
with perfect word choices and great turns of phrase
Without life support, hope is fading away
and The Sting’s happy ending won’t my fears allay
There’s raw truth in Fry’s worries of being deserter
Of returning to work when the venom can hurt her
And the shipper in me, a real drama fan
wished Leela would see Fry becoming a man
But on she slept, missing Bender’s arrival
Even squid-jigging boxing could not cause a revival
Long have I loved the words, “I want
my fish”
So fan-shippen-tastic my insides went squish!
Bestiality aside, ne’er to return, I do hope
after all Fry’s a human and not the Space Pope
What a noble surrender, what proud sacrifice
No foam hand could ever be worth such a price
To get Fry to leave, to abandon his pledge
while Leela’s soul walks a precarious ledge
“Don’t worry, be happy!” the false crew cries
when Fry whispers to Leela, “I love you, don’t die”
So touching it’s hard to find words to express,
my feelings, and especially rhyming no less
But thank you, friend Venus, for sharing with me,
Strange how such sorrow can fill me with glee!
Back down in the sewers, Munda’s falling apart,
and poor Morris regrets that his cooking’s no art
Post Partum depression brings grief that’s not fake
To lose a child twice over would make any heart break
Munda’s guilt driven fasting was making her sick
Three cheers for her husband who gave her a kick
Manhandling or mutant handling I have to wonder,
it’s easy to see from where Leela found thunder
Wise Morris knows that fierce anger’s much better
then being enchained in depression’s cold fetter
Munda worries and frets that she’s the deserter
but Morris gently points out that now “It’s all up to her”
Such a difficult scene and a burden to bear
Such power you have, Venus, to make us all care
From a husband and children to a life come to dust
To reclaim her dreams, Leela must wake soon, she must!
From the lingering fire of wearisome guilt,
you lead us now back to the tension you’ve built
Though he hates what he does, he has no other choice,
Fry must return to his job and he cannot rejoice
Oh, Venus, when Fry lambasted his worth
I wanted to weep but of tears, there was dearth
I read in silent amazement as he started to leave
but his legs wouldn’t listen; it’s his heart they believe
After reading such writing, well, what can I say,
but Venus your writing gets better each day.
You’re a fantastic friend and a true inspiration,
Thanks for sharing your work; it fills me with elation!
So I’ll wait patiently ‘til new writing emerges,
And in the mean time we can flirt with JBERGES!
Author
