Quoth the Phantom. . .

Once upon a midnight dreary, while we argued loud but weary,
Over many a diet and cancerous soda of addictive lore,
While Max nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a yelping,
As of some one loudly yelping, yelping at our rec room door.
`'Tis an IRS agent,' Ben muttered, `tapping at our rec room door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly we remember it was in the bleak September,
And the remembered dying summer wrought its ghost upon the teens.
Eagerly we wished the morrow; - vainly we had sought to borrow
From Erik's bookcase of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Christine -
For the invertebrate maiden whom the angels named Christine -
Spineless here for evermore.

And the cotton oddish rustling of each purple cloth curtain
Thrilled us - filled us with lime green-ish terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the crashing of PCs, Max stood repeating
`'Tis some IRS man entreating entrance at the rec room door -
Our late tax return explains his entrance at our rec room door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently Gabe's soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Dude,' said Gabe, `or agent, truly your forgiveness we implore;
But the truth is Max was napping, and so loudly you came yelping,
And so loudly you came yelping, yelping at our rec room door,
That I was angry when I heard you' - here Ben opened wide the door; -
Spencer there, and Mizamour.

Behind that Spencer peering, long we stood there gushing, fearing,
Kvetching, speaking Yiddish no mortal ever dared to speak or say
But nothing was there to be seen, and the darkness gave no way,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `OAYe!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `OAYe!'
Oddly this and nothing more.

Back into the rec room turning, all Max's Cokes within him burning,
Soon again Max heard a yelping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said Mizamour, `that is something at the window lattice;
Let me check then, what the yelp is, and this yelping then explore -
Let your feet be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the Martians, nothing more!'

Open here Miz flung the shutter, when, with many a slip like butter,
In there stepped the outré Phantom of the Junior High of yore.
Not the peanut butter cookies made she; not a minute hopped or flayed she;
But, with manner unlike a lady, perched above the rec room door -
Perched upon a bust of Zaphod just above the rec room door -
Perched, and yelped, and nothing more.

Then this odd creature beguiling Spencer's fancy into smiling,
By the mouthy ironic message of the T-Shirt that she wore,
`Though thy speech be yelps and ranting, thou,' Ben said, `art surely not random.
Ghastly grinning junior phantom wandering from the Irish shore -
Tell me what thy dreadful name is on the Night's phantomy shore!'
Quoth the phantom, `Wax the floor.'

Much Gabe marvelled this adolescent to hear direct so plainly,
Though its answer didn't sound good - for it sounded like a chore;
For Max and Spencer were agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was cursed with seeing girl above his rec room door -
Ghost or preteen above the Hitch Hiker's bust above his rec room door,
With such name as `Wax the floor.'

But the phantom, sitting comfy on the Beeblebrox, spoke only
That one phrase, as if her blog in that one word she did outpour.
Nothing further then she muttered - not a eyelash then she fluttered -
Till Miz scarcely more than muttered `Opera ghosts I've known before -
On the morrow will she leave me, as Eriks have flown before.'
Then the ghost said, `Wax the floor.'

Startled at the silence broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Oy vey,' said Max, `what she wears are merely white socks from the store,
Nicked from some inattentive cashier whose unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his register a burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Wax the-wax the floor."'

But the Phantom still beguiling all their sad souls into smiling,
Straight Ben wheeled a cushioned sofa in front of girl and bust and door;
Then, upon the polyester sinking, they betook themselves to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this nonconformist girl of yore -
What this wierd, eccentric, odd, and dramatic girl of yore
Meant in yelping, `Wax the floor.'

This Spencer was engaged in guessing, but no ideas expressing
To the phantom whose mismatched eyes now burned into Gabe's terror's core;
This and more Max sat divining, with his head at ease reclining
On the sofas polyester lining that the sun lamp gloated o'er,
But whose polyester lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall make us wax the floor!

Then, we thought, the air grew warmer, warmed by an unseen censer
Swung by the Fantastic Four whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Kat,' Ben cried, `I recognize you - by my common sense I surmise you
Go away - away and stop with all your orders to wax the floor!
Go, oh go, you absurd phangirl and forget this unwaxed floor!'
Quoth the phantom, `Wax the floor.'

`Republican!' said Max, `thing of evil! - GOP still, if ghost or devil! -
Whether Gingrich sent, or whether George Bush tossed thee here ashore,
Tired yet all undaunted, like a Wiccan girl enchanted -
On this room by Phantoms haunted - tell us truly, I implore -
Is there - is it true I am a banshee? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the phantom, `Wax the floor.'

And the phantom, never knitting, still is sitting, still is sitting,
On the glowing bust of Zaphod just above our rec room door;
And her eyes have all the seeming of an Erik's that is dreaming,
And the lava lamp o'er her streaming throws his shadow on the door;
And our soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the door
Will pull when we wax the floor.

I remain, gentlemen, your faithful and obedient servant,

J.G.