The race

I downloaded a rather sizable patch for a game, during which the download speed stuttered and leaped in an unforeseeable manner. It reminded me of a race.

 

There goes the signal and the race is on!

The contestants are away, vanished, gone!

#1 takes the lead with gigantic leaps

#3 is advancing in graceful sweeps.

#2 left stuttering behind in the dust,

#4 still at the start line, thinking, nonplussed.

#1 cruises on, victory secure

The only thing left now is to ensure-

At the start line, a flash of light!

#4 disappeared, completely out of sight!

The crowd goes crazy!? Where is #4?

At the finish line already? Hear them roar!

The download contest is done, winner: #4!

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new high score!

Sheep on the field

Just your average bicycle ride,

See some sheep, very woolly, two-eyed.

Come to a halt for a nice, quick pause

Observe the sheep and their chewing jaws.

That one over there is just ruminating

Chewing with the intent of swallow-for-sating.

The small one is rolling around in the grass,

Fluffy and white, its cuteness first-class.

And that one there is… in a white lab coat?

Holding a wrench and making a note?

That thing that it’s building, hold on…

Is that a rocket made of wood and nylon?

Defense against wolves and political aggression?

That raises one, and just one question:

How does one use a wrench with hooves?

One of the most complex of fine-motor moves.

World of dust

Don’t get curious when you’re cleaning.

Hazardous, that, if you get my meaning.

My little brother, he was only eight,

He’s very little, not packing much weight.

On the powerful vacuum so fascinating,

He did some too thorough eye-investigating.

It sucked him right in, with a loud hiss.

When mother came she saw something was amiss.

She looked under the couch and above the refrigerator

She looked high and low, a real investigator.

No sign of little brother, none whatsoever.

A disaster like this, it’s not enough to be clever.

My baby brother now lives among the dust

In a world without a sun. now he must

Find his way out if he is ever able

In the dark, with a stick, a piece of a cable.

The TV doctor

I stumbled in the kitchen while chopping up leek,

Cut my thumb deep with my antique.

The blood started spurting like a happy fountain

My heart rate started climbing like it was hiking on a mountain.

No one around knew any first aid,

Everyone I showed it to just got afraid.

I panicked and yelled “Help! Somebody, help!”

The TV came to life, powered by my yelp.

It stopped the bleeding, sutured the wound

Gave me a lollipop before my fear ballooned.

I asked astounded “How’d you know what to do?”

It replied “Ten seasons of ER would make you a doctor too.”

Flying ban

I went to Australia and what did I see,

A snake being eaten by a gigantic bee.

This was in the airport five minutes in,

My movement could be described as a nope-nope-nope-spin.

I spun so fast back out of ‘stralia,

The airplane gyroscopes responded with a failure.

No plane working, everyone grounded,

The mechanics astounded, confused and dumbfounded.

They found I’m to blame with a Geiger counter

A classic case of the never-plane-mounter.

So I got a ban that lasts a until the day I die,

But my carbon footprint’d make Mr. Musk cry.

Programming trees

In my spare time I like to hack trees.

It’s pretty easy, goes like a breeze.

You take a knife and carve a usb-port,

Into the bark like an inverted wart.

Take your laptop and a usb-cable

Connect to the tree: Hacking, enable.

Find the root directory, located in the roots

Add your config files with new attributes.

Like: branches now grow in the shape of a fist

That’s giving you the finger like a Yankee who’s pissed.

A surprise for my neighbor ten years from now,

That asshat scared my #1 cow.

Now he’s gonna get a row of oaks

Flipping him the bird while he scrambles his yolks.

Resurrection machine

In the far-away future, we can resurrect the dead,

With just a piece of bone a new being can be bred.

We tried using it to on our loved ones who passed,

But the memories were blank no matter what we asked.

First we were depressed, oh what a failure!

But then it hit us and we celebrated gailyer.

Blank-slate humans are perfect for tests:

Psychological research without learned pests.

That also failed, can’t generalize

The results into other, real gals and guys.

So now we just use them as slaves and that’s it.

They’ll work for whatever we want to see fit.

I conditioned mine to love being sat on.

It works for days and from dusk till dawn.

Once in a week I use it as a chair

And it praises its master, finds it more than fair.

Not what we wanted from the resurrection machine,

But it’s better than nothing, my home’s very clean