I don't know what it is about spergs, but they really bring out my creative side. Today, I was thinking about the amount of mental gymnastics Jace must have to go through to convince himself Tupac is not only alive, but in a secret underground rap bunker being converted to Islam by eeeevil muslims. I'd really like to know how Jace thinks this all happened in his mind, but alas, I can only guess. So with that in mind, I bring you the dark and twisted tale of:
The Tupac (with apologies to Poe)
Once upon an evening dreary, as I pondered weak and weary
Ranking types of wolves by which I most adore
I found a wolf I thought was strapping, when I heard somebody rapping
As if someone were a-rapping just outside my chamber door.
'Tis the radio, I muttered, that my faggot Mom put on.
Only this, and nothing more.
Rocking gently to my feet, I rose up quickly from my seat
Mom! I yelled, You bitch, I'll throw your radio to the floor!
For it was to lupines I was fapping, and distracting is this rapping, and the timing of it's rhyming - Here, I opened up the door.
Mere silence met me, set me on fantastic terror never felt before.
Only this, and nothing more.
Back into my bedroom turning, love for wolves within me burning
Soon I heard the rapping somewhat louder than before
As it came from out my closet, therefore I could only posit
'Twas some gay R.Kelly shit, or other rapper just as poor
Open wide I flung the portal but, unexpected, the immortal
Tupac, staring at me from out behind the door
Outside he stepped, although unasked
His face a perfect ebony masque then, as I breathlessly gasped, he sat
Sat upon my chamber floor, sat and stared at me with pleading eyes.
Perched and glared. Nothing more.
Homie, said I, famous rapper, ex-Makavelian macker,
Whether tempter sent or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore
Why is your death so widely doubted, all constraints of reason flouted
To keep alive the theory you're not dead forever more?
Is there any hope at all? Tell me, tell me I implore!
Quoth the Tupac: "Hezbollah".
And the Tupac, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On my threadbare and worn mattress sat upon my chamber floor
And his rhymes now hold the meaning
Of only a baby that is keening
And the light from my game's screen still throws his shadow on the floor
And I shan't be rid of this grim spectre that I now abhor
Till I've defeated Hezbollah
(...what? Oh, like it makes any less sense than Jace's real reasons!)
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