These be the minutes of the first meet of the
USCWodehouse society, held on March 25th, 2004, at
6pm, outside Leavey Library, University of Southern
California, Los Angeles, CA, as recorded by thine
humble servant, that noblest among men, Augustus
Fink-Nottle.
"The sun was shining right on me,
Shining with all his might;
He did his very best to make,
Me an execrable sight
And this was odd because there was
No other bloody bugger in sight.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly.
Clarence and Gally were missing;
The clock struck six oh five."
Poor Fink-Nottle stood there, pondering
The absence of the twain, wondering,
"Clarence, surely, hath forgotten;
That bounder's memory's rotten.
But, surely, certainly, Gally--
Why doth he dilly-dally?"
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each cotton trouser
Thrilled him - filled him with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of his heart, he stood repeating
"Its 6:15. Five minutes more;
Let me wait five minutes more."
Five minutes, and nothing more.
Six-twenty came; Fink-Nottle went;
Drank Jamba juice to heart's content.
Reaching home, the email sounded.
Clarence, "I'll be late." Astounded.
Then in comes Gally, shining pate,
Huff-pant, pant-huff, "I got late."
So, take my counsel, all who readest,
Wait five minutes more than needest,
Get cellphone numbers, faces, places,
'Tis mice, not men, are good at mazes,
And, if left stranded, do not curse,
But share the pain by writing verse.
Khatam Shud