If Poe were a Techie

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IF POE WERE A TECHIEOnce upon a midnight dreary,fingers cramped and vision bleary,system manuals piled highand wasted paper on the floor,longing for the warmth of bed sheets,still I sat there, doing spreadsheets.Having reached the bottom line,I took a floppy from the drawer.Typing with a steady hand,I then invoked the "save" commandand waited for the disk to store,only this and nothing more.Deep into the monitor peering,long I sat there wond'ring, fearingwhile the disk kept churning,turning yet to churn some more."Save!" I said, "You cursed mother!Save my data from before!"One thing did the phosphors answeronly this and nothing more, just,"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"With my fingers pale and trembling,slowly toward the keyboard bending,longing for a happy ending,hoping all would be restored,Praying for some guarantee,timidly I pressed a key.But on the screen there still persisted,words appearing as before.Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted,haunted, as my patience wore, saying,"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"There I sat, distraught, exhausted;by my own machine accosted.Getting up, I turned away,and paced across the office poor.And then I saw a dreadful sight:a lightning bolt cut through the night.A gasp of horror overtook me,shook me to my very core.The lightning zapped my previous data,lost and gone forevermore. Not even,"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"




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