All the vendors were tired; they’d been there all day.
The scanners were placed on the carpets with care,
In hopes that big customers soon would be there;
The techs were nestled all snug in their beds,
While big party hangovers messed with their heads;
The PACSMan with camera and me taking notes
Were on the Grand Concourse after ransoming coats,
When out on the floor there arose such a clatter,
I sprang over there to see what was the matter.
And to the exhibits I flew like a bee,
Tore right through the guards with my RFID,
The green glow of lights on white carpeted floor,
Gave a nice, eerie lustre to scanners galore,
But, what do my watering eyes then behold,
But a bright-green stretch limo with bumpers of gold
With a little old driver, who was packing some heat,
I knew in a moment this wasn’t my treat.
More rapid than eagles his helpers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Vito! now, Carlo! now, Marco and Vinnie!
On, Gino! on Louie! on, Fingers and Johnny!
To the top of the food court! the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!
Boys, grab Dr. Dalai and do it with haste,
We’ll teach him to mess with us! No time to waste!”
So deep in the exhibit they took me, Dr. Dalai,
And all shook their heads at the depth of my folly.
I knew I was done for; there wasn’t much question.
The pain in my chest wasn’t just indigestion.
The booth then exploded with a thunderous roar,
As angry ex-customers took to the floor,
They wore plastic badges edged all in blue;
And most RFID’s were torn up in two,
They came into the booth just like a great flood;
You could tell in their eyes, they were looking for blood.
Their droll little arms were all waving P.O.’s
Which they shredded all over the carpeted rows.
The stump of a pen they held tight in their fists,
One particular vendor was scratched off their lists;
The guys in the limo began looking pale,
They shook, and they quaked, and I knew they would bail.
My readers all came to my rescue that day
And I laughed when I realized I’d not soon decay,
They all winked as one, and we knew we’d prevail
Because nothing hurts like the loss of a sale;
The limo and driver and all of his minions,
Skulked out of the booth muttering “Gosh Darn opinions”,
Removing his finger from inside of his nose,
And waving said finger, up the vent shaft they rose;
All over the North Hall and also the South
The news of our story came from every mouth.
Said the green-suited man as he entered the fog:
The Heck with you, Dalai, and Heck with your blog.