Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, "Wallace weary?" Over many a quaint and curious ESPN ticker of basketball scores, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Tis some visitor," I muttered, "rapping at my chamber door; Only Patrick rapping "Tupac", and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, In first place I perched, I remember, wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow For Nene and Hughes only brought me sorrow, sorrow for the lost High Score, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name High Score, Nameless here for evermore.
