An ode to the Potato Dragons

An ode to the Potato Dragons

Together we’ve come so far

Yet we have so much to go.

I’ve always wondered if our skills are

Good enough or simply too low.

If we’re ever going to be stars,

I’m not one to ever know.

But for now, we have our fun.

With our champions, role plays, and big guns.

To us, we’re always going to be number one,

Even if people shoot at our buns.

Even though we all love our damage

No one can ever deal with our stuns

And our roleplays are always an adventure.

We have the gentlemen Iron Scorpion, Timithy, and Hamhawk.

And although my troll-y methods caused you to be indentured,

I think you guys enjoy my surreal gaming shock.

You guys love to go in my world and venture

Even if the way we interact is talk.

Finally we have our shooters

From Team Fortress 2, to Borderlands, to Left 4 Dead.

Even if we fight Handsome Jack and become looters

Or we rev our mini-guns and fight bread.

We all still have our fun acting like hooters.

Our guns never bring a sense of dread.

An ode to Richie of the Potato Dragons

An ode to Richie of the Potato Dragons

I love your facial hair,

Especially your beard.

Your calm reserved air,

It keeps everyone cheered!

I love your joking flare.

It’s so funny and weird.

I love your Twisted Fate,

Your Darius plays,

Your low health Soraka bait,

Your ignites sends all ablaze

Bot lane killed with stacks to eight,

And your Wukong’s jukes for days.

I love your skill with a sniper rifle,

And skills with a long sword.

Dispatching enemies without trifle,

Sometimes even being bored.

With bullet and sword, this endless cycle,

Killing with me endless hordes.

Finally I love that your my friend.

Ever since middle school

And these days never seem to end.

All the potato dragons acting like fools.

I’m glad we get to spend,

Time together. It’s been cool.

Palindrome of the alliance and horde

Is this what they wanted?

The Horde

Are powerful enough to defeat

The alliance, in a duel.

They possess strength of warriors.

They possess the intelligence of mages.

They possess the cunning of rogues.

But I wonder something.

The alliance, so superior to the horde, doesn’t possess anything special, likewise,

The Horde doesn’t possess anything special themselves.

Except for one detail.

The Horde has the regenerating trolls, battle hardened orcs, physically strong Tauren, the shadow infused forsaken, the extremely cunning goblins, and the corrupted blood elves.

While the Alliance has the versatile humans, battle hardened dwarves, physically strong Worgen, the nature infused Night elves, the extremely intelligent gnomes, and the purified Dreanai.

They are not stronger than one another.

They are together in this war against all.

As irony states

But the war between them rages on.

Not one side will win but both sides will lose.

Why is this?

----

Why is this?

Not one side will win but both sides will lose.

But the war between them rages on.

As irony states

They are together in this war against all.

They are not stronger than one another.

While the Alliance has the versatile humans, battle hardened dwarves, physically strong Worgen, the nature infused Night elves, the extremely intelligent gnomes, and the purified Dreanai.

The Horde has the regenerating trolls, battle hardened orcs, physically strong Tauren, the shadow infused forsaken, the extremely cunning goblins, and the corrupted blood elves.

Except for one detail.

The Horde doesn’t possess anything special themselves.

The alliance, so superior to the horde, doesn’t possess anything special, likewise,

But I wonder something.

They possess the cunning of rogues.

They possess the intelligence of mages.

They possess strength of warriors.

Are powerful enough to defeat

The Horde

Is this what they wanted?

An elegy to Jeremy

What a day, the puppet has caused.

What a storm, the puppet has caused.

Jeremy lays dead, line wrapped around his body.

He now views his life, disembodied

A life wasted, a franchise destroyed, the puppet’s laugh

You got what you wanted. You killed the staff.

But poor Jeremy, all he did was get a job,

To pay for college, a blue bike, and books. Now he sobs.

He came from abusive parents, abusive siblings, and abusive life.

Now his death causes so much strife.

As the chef of Freddy Fazbear’s, I speak with the animatronics all the time.

The puppet terrifies them, and with his crime

Now many of them will be scrapped.

At word of this, even sweet little toy Chica Snapped.

Oh Jeremy, why did you have to die?

Without even saying goodbye.

You will be missed, poor Jeremy.

Oh, how I wished you were to flee.

But no, you were always a brave man, in the face of danger.

Staying at this horrible job, hiding from these strangers.

What kind of life you’ve led to end here.

At least you know we cared, based on these tears.

You left us, sweet prince.

I have been alone, since.

I took over your job, I hope you don’t mind.

Though I learned that I was always blind.

To the danger you faced every night.

This is no easy sight.

I wish you luck, you brave man.

I hope I see you again.

I hope you have peace, joy, and that blue bike.

Signed sincerely, your friend, Mike.

An Ode to Mangle

An Ode to Mangle

I see her in the cove

 She’s beaten, almost destroyed

But not yet broken

Tonight she is not alone

Like all her nights, days, minutes

Her friend Endo holds her dearly

Her body is destroyed

A humble mess of what it was

But what a beautiful creature she is

One eye is missing,

One hand is gone

But she’s proud of her body

Her teeth are white as snow

Her pink blush done delicately

Her bowtie done professionally

What a beautiful creature she is

She appears from the right, front and above

She is unpredictable

And she is amazing

Life’s definitely not a bore with her

Day 1 – 7, Ladies night or 10-20

She makes everything more interesting

With her smile brings great emotions to Jeremy

From joy and at times sadness

It’s just so big and pearly

Everyone loves her

From Toy Chica, Foxy, Bonnie

The puppet, balloon boy, and toy bonnie

What a glorious person she is

Coming from nothing just to see you

She doesn’t want to leave you alone

What a beautiful creature she is

No regrets

With a big yellow and red balloon, I

Find myself enthralled by the beauty of

your red, your blue, your sign, your sheen, your eyes.

Why must love be so cruel to us, my love.

For you don't love me back, hate fills you up.

You want to kill me, stuff me in a suit

But you do it tearful, saying "Hi? Sup?

Hello?" Love is malicious to the cute.

My lust for you is like an old keyboard.

I have lust to tap you until you break.

Without your sight, my life will become bored.

 Without your presence, my small heart will break.

My love for you, my balloon boy, is strong.

My love, my animatronic, is wrong.

Thursday, December 4th - Unrequited love

You had me at "Hello".

Working on my night shift, working up music boxes, putting on various (one really) masks, hiding behind a desk, flashing lights on other employees, avoiding getting bitten by the cute chick, and then I saw you. At first I didn't notice you, I thought you were part of the background. I was focusing on how everyone else was doing and I over looked you, and I'm sorry. However, I did notice that you took the initiative on me. You came from my left, when I looked forward and right. Fitting, as that was both literal and metaphorical.

When I saw your eyes, I was mesmerized, I couldn't look away from you. Your red and blue shirt, that cute silly hat of yours, the amazing face of yours, the flashlight of mine, everything was going right for me. Except for when you entered in. Everything seemed to be going well except that redhead jerk decided to get in our way. We were having such a good time, mindlessly greeting each other, laughing, giggling, being mauled by Foxy. I miss you Balloon boy. I want you back.

 

 

 

With a big yellow and red balloon, I

Find myself enthralled by the beauty of

your red, your blue, your sign, your sheen, your eyes.

Why must love be so cruel to us, my love.

 

For you don't love me back, hate fills you up.

You want to kill me, stuff me in a suit

But you do it tearful, saying "Hi? Sup?

Hello?" Love is malicious to the cute.

 

My lust for you is like an old keyboard.

I have lust to tap you until you break.

Without your sight, my life will become bored.

 Without your presence, my small heart will break.

 

My love for you, my balloon boy, is strong.

My love, my animatronic, is wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What kind of life is one that has no you?

What am I supposed to do when I'm here?

Motivation with dealing with the crew?

What kind of life am I forced to endear?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tuesday, December 2 - Top Secret

As I hear the water run I hear my wife, Old Man Mcgucket, speak to her crazy hat friends. She (he?) never leaves anywhere without her (his?) hat. Only on very seldomly sad occasions does She (he?) ever take them out. While speaking to her (his?) crazy hat friends, she begins to speak of dangerously secret events and stories that no U.S. citizen should ever hear. The first of which was the fact that General Burnside had, in fact, no moustache. The facial hair that he had was, indeed, a squirrel hot glued on his face. The next fact,  that almost blew my cover as I was pretending to be asleep, was that George Washington was in fact Jesus reincarnated and that Bill Nye the Science Guy was the newest incarnation of Jesus.  The third fact, that indeed blew my cover, was the fact that I wasn’t even Old Man Mcgucket’s wife. Instead, I was actually his pillow, specifically the part where he used his hat  to patch up. I was one of his crazy hat friends. I’m not crazy. I’m just a sentient pillow hat man.

As a small continuation of the pillow events, several days later, I was traveling with Old Man Mcguckit when I had been dropped off at the washing machine (Really it was the lake) and I managed to convince a bear that he was indeed not crazy and could commune with pillow hat men. I told him everything. Later he became the president of the United States of America. But that is a story for another time.