I have, my loyal readers, been away- but now am back
For a merciless and (hopefully) successful new attack
On the plagues of fanfic sites and general blights upon the earth,
The Mary-Sues- those tramplers of the literary turf
And spoilers of the soil! I will not bother to repeat
The wish I have to stamp upon their little hairy feet,
The venom I have stored in fading hope under my bed
In case I have the chance to pour it in their empty heads.
You should, if you have read the past few chapters (is it six?)
Know that I wish to quell this problem, nip it in the quick.
Perhaps, I thought, during my solstice in lands overseas,
It isn't going to work, this 'bring the Mary-Sues to their knees!'
Approach. You can't use violence on the criminally insane.
It's stupid, asinine- why, to be frank, it's quite inane.
They're driven by a bloodlust, a deep-rooted mad conviction
That the Prince of Mirkwood one day will arise from within fiction
And approach them, down on bended knee, proposing God knows what.
Therefore it's really useless to strike while the iron is hot
And try and beat them to a pulp. While satisfying, it
Is hardly therapeutic, and can lead to getting nits.
(Those long blonde wigs that Mary-Sues seem to continually wear
Are often ripped, diseased and never seem to be repaired.)
I've come up, finally, with a new way to clear the land
Of those awful, obscene, traitorous and underhand-
(All right, you get the point). In any case, my plan involves a new
Approach to trying to stop these things from bothering me and you.
The key (as Freud would say) to their psychological corruption
Is that they must be lonely, or else starved for interruption
In their love lives. Having never had an in-depth conversation
With Mary-Sues that lasts beyond the third city train station,
Where I get off, disgusted, all I have to prove this theory
Is a myriad of Leggy-stories full of romance bright and cheery.
If this is proof of madness, which I'm certain that it is,
Then perhaps we can ignore the lack of evidential fizz
And move on to my idea. It is simple, it is clean,
It restrains itself from acting in a manner rude and mean
(Though we all know they deserve it)- May I have a drum roll please!
It's the Mary Suer Love Connection, with moderate fees!
A dating service, whereupon the lonely Mary Sue
Can meet the Legolas of her dreams- or his (I'm not a prude).
We link them up on cyberspace, where they teem anyway,
And send them out on dates when comes a nice and sunny day.
To Tolkein fan clubs, archery, to cliffs, cloak stores and fields,
If we could pair them up perhaps their souls would be revealed
From under that foul coat of bile in which they now reside.
It probably, however, would be quite a rocky ride.
We might be inundated with requests for lanky lads
With long hair (BROWN!), a longbow and a King for dear old dad.
Eventually, however, we might make them all see sense-
Even if that process does involve nailing them to a fence.
Look here, you Mary Sues- I know that underneath that crust
Of dumb perverted fantasies and adolescent lust
There's something yearning, lonely and just wanting to be held.
(They say that that's what Adolf Hitler felt at times as well.)
Now ask yourself one question: If Dear Legolas the Great
Appeared, all hair and arrows, at your picket fence front gate,
Would he beg and plead on bended knee for you to be his wife?
The answer, Mary Sues, is no. Go out and get a life.
For a merciless and (hopefully) successful new attack
On the plagues of fanfic sites and general blights upon the earth,
The Mary-Sues- those tramplers of the literary turf
And spoilers of the soil! I will not bother to repeat
The wish I have to stamp upon their little hairy feet,
The venom I have stored in fading hope under my bed
In case I have the chance to pour it in their empty heads.
You should, if you have read the past few chapters (is it six?)
Know that I wish to quell this problem, nip it in the quick.
Perhaps, I thought, during my solstice in lands overseas,
It isn't going to work, this 'bring the Mary-Sues to their knees!'
Approach. You can't use violence on the criminally insane.
It's stupid, asinine- why, to be frank, it's quite inane.
They're driven by a bloodlust, a deep-rooted mad conviction
That the Prince of Mirkwood one day will arise from within fiction
And approach them, down on bended knee, proposing God knows what.
Therefore it's really useless to strike while the iron is hot
And try and beat them to a pulp. While satisfying, it
Is hardly therapeutic, and can lead to getting nits.
(Those long blonde wigs that Mary-Sues seem to continually wear
Are often ripped, diseased and never seem to be repaired.)
I've come up, finally, with a new way to clear the land
Of those awful, obscene, traitorous and underhand-
(All right, you get the point). In any case, my plan involves a new
Approach to trying to stop these things from bothering me and you.
The key (as Freud would say) to their psychological corruption
Is that they must be lonely, or else starved for interruption
In their love lives. Having never had an in-depth conversation
With Mary-Sues that lasts beyond the third city train station,
Where I get off, disgusted, all I have to prove this theory
Is a myriad of Leggy-stories full of romance bright and cheery.
If this is proof of madness, which I'm certain that it is,
Then perhaps we can ignore the lack of evidential fizz
And move on to my idea. It is simple, it is clean,
It restrains itself from acting in a manner rude and mean
(Though we all know they deserve it)- May I have a drum roll please!
It's the Mary Suer Love Connection, with moderate fees!
A dating service, whereupon the lonely Mary Sue
Can meet the Legolas of her dreams- or his (I'm not a prude).
We link them up on cyberspace, where they teem anyway,
And send them out on dates when comes a nice and sunny day.
To Tolkein fan clubs, archery, to cliffs, cloak stores and fields,
If we could pair them up perhaps their souls would be revealed
From under that foul coat of bile in which they now reside.
It probably, however, would be quite a rocky ride.
We might be inundated with requests for lanky lads
With long hair (BROWN!), a longbow and a King for dear old dad.
Eventually, however, we might make them all see sense-
Even if that process does involve nailing them to a fence.
Look here, you Mary Sues- I know that underneath that crust
Of dumb perverted fantasies and adolescent lust
There's something yearning, lonely and just wanting to be held.
(They say that that's what Adolf Hitler felt at times as well.)
Now ask yourself one question: If Dear Legolas the Great
Appeared, all hair and arrows, at your picket fence front gate,
Would he beg and plead on bended knee for you to be his wife?
The answer, Mary Sues, is no. Go out and get a life.