How Tman broke the Tavern.
OR
Why there's no Time Warp today.


'Twas a few days ago, in the Tavern of War,
that our story begins! In 2004.
Now the Taverners of said Tavern liked stories a lot,
but Tman, who only played JJ2, did not.
"I can't stand those stories!" he said while unbanned,
staring at topics found by his mouse clicking hand,
"Not comic, not tragic, historical nor morbid,
not action, not musings, round robins nor sordid...
"They all are just stories! And it is that I say,
they do not fit into my Jazz playing day!"
Tman stood the bad stories, for six long years on end,
until one day the rabbit went right round the bend.
"I'll show them!" he laughed, with his hands all a shakin',
"I'll enlist some aid, and history we'll start makin'!"
So he got on JJ2, and a server he hosted,
but he got no offers of help from the people he roasted!
Diz said no, Piz said no, so too did Sal,
R3ptile and FS and TS and Dal,
until finally Tman snapped, while at home in his wealth,
"Fine then! I'll just have to DO IT MYSELF"!
So he stood there and thought on the top of mount Utgow,
'I must stop those stories from being posted... but how?!'
He thought there three hours, and he thought there some more,
he thought there until his very thinker was sore!
And finally, as the sunset turned the skies red and gory,
he said, "of course! I'll take the ELEMENTS of the stories!"
"But how shall I do it? I'm sure, so to say,
they won't let me waltz in and secrete them away!"
Then Tman got an idea.
An awful idea.
The Tman got a wonderful, awful idea!
So he rushed back inside to the back of his house
And he reached into his cage, and pulled out his pet mouse
And this mouse was named "Wallhax"! And the Tman he said,
"With a nice pair of engines attached to your head,
you'll look just like a spaceship! And spaceships aren't rare
in fact, in the War Tavern, they're found everywhere!"
So Tman got some engines, and stuck them on Wallhax,
using a pair of specialty thumb tacks,
then dove into the closet, for costumes were there;
he pulled out a cape and a wig of orange hair.
"With this," laughed the Tman, donning the fake mop,
"And this (the cape), I'll look just like Coppertop!"
So he got his convertible from the back of the shed,
and tied it to the engines on Wallhax's head
and he got in the convertible, and shouted out loud
"To the War Tavern, Wallhax! Do me proud."
So the engines kicked off, at a mighty fast speed,
taking Tman down Utgow so he could do the deed,
of taking the elements of all the Tavern's tales
and listening smugly to the Taverners' wails.
Soon Wallhax had reached the bottom of the slope,
so Tman got out, and he got out his rope,
and he climbed up the rope, both quickly and nimbly,
until he stood overlooking the War Tavern chimney.
"If Grinchman could do it, then so too can I!"
cried Tman, even as be breathed a great sigh,
and the Tman climbed into the chimney with ease,
and slid down into the fireplace, with no "as you please".
The Tavern was crowded, but all were unconscious,
lost in their dreams of plotlines and angst,
so Tman cackled quietly, beginning his raid
to take away all the stuff from which stories were made.
He scooped up their characters! Motives and locations,
reactions and plotholes and standing ovations,
romance and hatred and round robin communion,
plots ending tragically or with a sense of union,
and it was as he scraped up the very last scene stop,
he near jumped out of his skin at a soft whispered "Coppertop?"
Tman whirled in surprise, to find standing by the door,
young Mr. Falcon, whose eyes numbered four.
"Coppertop?" asked 4I Falcon, his eyes full of wonder,
"why are you taking our successes and blunders?"
But Tman was smart! So he ha-ha'ed and hoo-hoo'ed,
saying "all these stories must go to be reviewed!
I'm taking them away for a closer examination,
and when returned they'll be all without contamination!"
And the Tman's quick lie fooled the unsuspecting Falcon,
who was sent back to bed with a good sense of "all done" .
Soon Tman was back on the summit of Utgow,
the fictional components safely stored away, so what now?
"Why," said the Tman, "soon it'll be daylight!
And the Taverners will wake up in disorder and much fright,
as they find that their stories can no longer be made!
And they'll stand there and wail, in a great promenade,
and they'll wail, and they'll shout, and they'll cry out in fear,
and THAT," said the Tman, "I simply MUST hear!"
So he stood there, all smiles, his ears to the wind,
as the Taverners woke up from last night's big binge,
and soon a sound came up, but not saddened or weary...
somehow, impossibly, this sound sounded... cheery!
The Taverners were still happy! Full of friendship and union
parties and laughter and sense of communion,
"but this cannot be!" raged the Tman, his brain in a roar,
"it came without stories! That's not been done before!"
So he stood there and thought, his thoughts all confused,
while Wallhax stood by, looking at Tman, bemused,
until three hours later, Tman had a new thought,
which served to explain the lack of change he had wrought.
"Maybe the Tavern," thought Tman, "isn't just about plotlines in store..."
"Maybe the Tavern," thought Tman, "is a little bit more!"
For more important than the stories themselves, so it seemed,
was the friendship and things of the War Tavern dream!
So he remounted his convertible, with Wallhax full throttle,
and raced back down the slopes, to where the Taverners boggled,
and he brought back their characters! Motives and locations,
reactions and plotholes and standing ovations,
romance and hatred and round robin communion,
plots ending tragically or with a sense of union,
and the next time someone started that round robin rap,
the Tman, HIMSELF, the Tman posted the first chap.