That Tastes Horrible

.sdneirf tseb eht ekam yeht :sehciwdnaS Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping. Long ago I heard that sound, often lost, but seldom found, a haunting voice from minutes past, Micah had returned at last. And I was like, "What's up dude?" And he was like, "Uhhh, I found your comb." And then I was like, "Shut-Up!" And then he was like, "Yeah, and stuff." And then I was like, "Rock on!" And that's how the story ends, now you hear the score my friends. We're finding answers, we're setting trends. I guess that's how the story ends. How distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, and each dying ember, wrought its ghost upon the floor. I heard a voice that chilled my spine, I saw what I could not define, a sight I never could contrive, there stood Brad at last, alive. "Where have you been these endless years?" I asked him, sobbing through my tears. "I did not die by plague or prison, what really died is cynicism."