Perhaps My Highest Compliment

So there's a thread going on Protagonize called "My Name I Skate." It's a collection of altered, contorted, or otherwise tweaked Protagonists' pennames. I found them all very amusing, but I figured that, given the bizzare and lengthy complexity of my own penname, no one would try to take mine on.

And, as per usual when I think those sorts of things, I was proven wrong.

The perennially excellent Tasha Noble left me a message on my Protag profile a few days ago.
"Apologies in advance!" she began, "But I couldn't resist it. And it's very silly indeed." Naturally I had no idea what she was talking about, so I curiously clicked the included link, which led me to this:

Gee! to Lappy-Annie Stairland (E.S.A)
Gee! What a funny girl is Annie Stairland
Working for the Ecological Society
Of America, with her laptop-case in hand
She's never seen without it - loves it very much, you see.

At night she keeps her lappy in a lead-lined strong-box
In her bedside cabinet, and guarded by her dog
(A doberman-rottweiler cross whose name is Mr Cox)
Because of these precautions Annie sleeps like a log.

She keeps all her contacts in her 'lappy', and she would
Be completely lost without it so it never leaves her side
It's how she got her nickname, but I really think she should
Invest in a netbook, They're much easier to hide.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't help but laugh aloud; it was so funny and so ingenious, and I still couldn't get over the fact that she'd somehow managed to tweak something out of my penname. Granted, the "g2" is supposed to be "g-squared," but she told me that it wouldn't of worked otherwise.

I found some of the other feedback:

"Wow Tasha, you really contorted g2's name into shape there. From now on we should call you Tasha: Lyrical Contortionist!Nice work, very funny."

"Even if the poem sucked, I would have had to give you an A+ for managing something out of the Irish Pianist's name. But such was not the case :D"

"wow, till I read Aryst0's comment I had no clue who this was about... but it's pretty fantastic.I'm in a public computer room at my college laughing away to this things. Pretty soon I'm gonna be getting looks.. if I'm not already. I don't exactly care. haha."

Naturally, I had to add my own two-cents:
"Okay, those two poems earlier made my morning, but this just made my whole zarkin' week, Tasha. It took a while to see it, but as soon as I did I had to laugh aloud. I have [no] clue how you did it, but boy you did it."

Somehow, in my mind, the hilarious contortion of my name ranks as probably the highest compliment I have ever received on Protag.

Thanks muchly Tasha.

SoP 56: An Experimental Poem

Versed Interrogation, Pt 1.

I swear and I tell you, I’ve nothing to hide.

Then I guess it won’t matter if I stand close behind?

I guess not…
- – - – - – You falter, and s’piciously so…

Suspiciously? Me? That’s absurd! Oh dear, no!

Defensive we’re getting, a sure sign of guilt.
Your stories don’t match, alibi is not built
Most solidly. I think you’re caught in my snare.

What?! You are mad! You really do dare
To ’cuse me of such a crackpotted crime?!

If you wanna play tough, then I guess it is time
To toughen the insentive to tell the real truth.

Try me. I dare you. I can take it, forsooth.

We can do this most easy, but you ’fuse to obey,
And for your intractability, you pay.
- - - - -
I had this idea, but I really had no idea how it would work, and I can't really think of an "ending" of sorts just yet. Any and all constructive criticism and feedback, as well as suggestions as how to continue, would be greatly appreciated.

SoP 55: Inspiration, or Lack Thereof

As far as my inspiration will go,
Right now I do beweep its dried-up state.
I wish that I had more to share and show,
But oh, alas, it’s all I have to date.

They call it Writer’s Block out on the street,
Although, to us, it’s torture, simply put,
lacking ideas to put upon the sheet
And when some do, they only get the foot.

Oh how I wish I could think of something
that’s worth the pianoman’s good reading time.
And hopef’ly into trash bin he won’t fling
this sorry s’cuse for verse and dreadful rhyme.

Please bear with me for one more couplet set.
Now you are done, seek refuge with your pet.
- - - - -
I wanted to enter a poetry challenge, but I couldn't think of anything at the time. So I wrote about not being able to think of anything. We writers are crazy like that.

SoP 54: Creative Rebel

We’re not allowed to think outside the box,
Thinking at all is frowned upon out here.
Forget creating anything, no dear.
They only want us sitting there like rocks.

They keep all books under the keys and locks,
And try t’enstill pervasive sense of fear.
They cannot hold me down, my voice they’ll hear,
I’ll fight back verb’ly, muse’cly, ’til gun cocks.

Enclothed in Converse, jeans, a pen in hand,
signs of rebellion, ones that cause a stir
and ’tract attention, but it makes them heed.

451 has nothing on this land.
They’ll kill me off, but it won’t work, no sir.
’Cause on that fateful day, I will be freed.
- - - - -
Originally appeared on ficly, inspired a bit by FYM

SoP 53: Grey Eyes

Vibrant, warm, cur'ous,
Enthusiasm abounds
In those living greys.
- - - - -
Cold, tired, judging
There's almost something sinister
In the Doctor's eyes.
- - - - -
'Loo's prompt made me think of a series that we're working on together entitled "Thank You For Encouraging My Lunacy," which you can find here.

SoP 52: The Dude and the Pickle

In one fell swoop it came to my mind
And flatly refused to leave.
They're up to their old antics, guys,
And drive me to insan'ty.

I've dealt with flinging cutlery,
Which is fine. But hear:
Have you heard a thing so strange
a one sticking a pickle in ear?

Dear friends, I dare to kid you not
And I speak of truth-titutions.
But I say this and I think:
They'll think I belong in institution.

SoP 51: Engage

It's very difficult
to engage
in conversation

When the other
won't speak:
Silent vexation
- - - - -
Guess where?