Once upon a morning cheery, while I pondered, slightly bleary Over many a new webcomic full of dreary trendy wit, Suddenly with brief foreboding I beheld an image loading - 'T'was a small JPEG decoding on my panel bit by bit. Just a monochrome depiction taking shape there bit by bit. I thought, 'What's the point of it?' For the frame projected merely two figures arranged austerely, Seated rather cavalierly on some lonesome barren spit. Eagerly I sought for meaning in their placid restful leaning, Yet that earnest mental gleaning explicated not a whit; - ''Tis a caption missing,' said I, comprehending not a whit, 'Should explain wherefore they sit.' Not inclined to whine or curse it, I intended to disperse it But my mouse chanced to traverse it and up popped a tiny chit: An alt-text, I saw, not fearing to expect the purpose clearing By the letters there appearing like a scroll of holy writ. Rapt I read the words inscribed there, terrible as holy writ. And they spelt out: 'Wait for it.' Wait for it? I sat and pondered while my morbid fancies wandered Into strange phantasmagoric places few ever admit. What grim portent was it sending; was 'it' coming soon, or ending? Some catastrophe impending, all our mortal lives forfeit? Was the Judgment Day upon us, holding every soul forfeit? Quoth the alt-text: 'Wait for it.' Anon my mania deflated and it seemed my fears abated. (None of us knows what is fated, and to fate we all submit.) Then my gaze suddenly lifted, for like desert sands that drifted, The comic page had shifted, though no refresh I'd transmit. Lo! The figures changed position, with no page refresh transmit. Quoth the alt-text: 'Wait for it.' Castles, rivers, swimming, scaffold, rising sea: all left me baffled, As pix flowed in slow succession like a garment being knit. Though my kenning should be gaining with each frame, 'twere no explaining Every question still remaining: 'What's it mean, how does it fit? Where's it going, what's the point, who are these folks, how's it all fit?' Quoth the alt-text: 'Wait for it.' No surcease from my reflecting stopped the questions interjecting: 'Is the artist now expecting? Or is it his family's split? Is it all 'bout global warming? Is it cancer lesions swarming? I pray you, be more informing! All these mysteries remit. For my peace of mind and sanity, the mysteries remit.' Quoth the alt-text: 'Wait for it.' 'Your coyness is most unpleasing. I won't wait,' I shouted, wheezing - 'All these pictures are just teasing, no intention to commit. Black stick figure and sand castle, images so trite and facile They're not worth near this much hassle. Leave my monitor unlit. Take thy comic off my browser; leave my monitor unlit!' Quoth the alt-text: 'Wait for it.' And the alt-text, ne'er updating, still is waiting, still is waiting As each new frame looms, relating tick by tick the drawn-out skit. I can but, through days ensuing, ponder on my soul's undoing, The one hope for my renewing being that I somehow quit Whilst the alt-text whispers softly that I'm doomed never to quit. I can only... wait for it.
Posted on 2013-05-16 15:51 by Rule110.