This started out innocent enough…

But it just so happens that the same day of the limerick contest they had a soup day, Employees brought soup and Bread and feed the entire staff. the hit of the event was… texas Chili and a Sausage bean soup

And you can see where this is going

There once was an FPS lamer,
Who fancied himself quite the gamer,
With a cheat download one night,
He cleared all walls from sight,
And he claimed he’d become the best aimer.

There once was a game forum poster,
Who had the IQ of a toaster.
With glee and delight,
He flamed threads left and right,
Of feats with your mother he was quite the boaster.

Mike C
Four ghosts were trapped in a maze,
While Pac-Man moved in his craze
Though hunted for sport,
They made their retort:
“You’ve outlived your Halcyon Days!”

Mike R
There once was a programmer named Cratchet
Who took to the code with a hatchet.
As ship dates drew near,
He said with a tear,
“If worse comes to worse we can patch it.”

My leet necromancer named Jones
Has an army of skeleton drones;
these wee little noobs
met Andariel’s boobs
and reverted to piles of bones.

On a Thursday it did come to pass
that the bank of computers called NAS
while on a big spree
of work for E3
had fallen quite flat on its ass.

A talentless newbie named Spastic
Resorted to tactics quite drastic;
At his console he slaved,
Neither showered nor shaved,
Till his stench and his skills were fantastic.

A young ninja-looter named Tritt
Thought his antics a fine show of wit;
But his tricks crossed the path
Of an Orc who knew math
And Tritt’s skull and the loot were both split.

An Elf priestess, devout of Elune,
Caused an acne-plagued hacker to swoon.
He stalked her! He loved her!
Until he discovered
“She” too was a creepy old goon.

When doling out metrical feet
Our friend Harry may think himself “leet.”
But it’s not hard to see
It’s two twos and three threes:
You’ll need fart jokes to rhyme on MY street!

Chris F
If only you counted your syllables
Then maybe your work would be masterful
But your meter’s choppy
Your limericks sloppy
But reading this note I am full o’ bull

“Metrical quibbles aside,
and trying not to sound snide,
your effort’s just crap,
you ignorant sap,”
The cranky old man said as he sighed

Chris C
it’s not “have you met my fine wife”
or “wow, iraq’s sure full of strife”
but speaking to harry
before you can tarry
says he “hey, I worked on half-life!”

Chris F
though age causes his bits to droop, er
And makes problems untold with his pooper
harry isn’t so sad
He thinks, “it’s not so bad”
“At least I drive a Mini Cooper”

Chris C
You know I worked on Half-life,
And lived through Microprose strife.
I’m really quite jaded,
For my memory’s faded.
Yet my English knowledge is rife.

Chris P
Your poems are making me smirk,
And they’ll drive poor old Harry berserk,
But I have a suggestion
Or more of a question
Dear God, Foster, when do you work?

I protest as the killjoy draws near,
“Is St. Patty’s Day nothing but beer?”
It’s our duty to tarry
And pick on old Harry:
We’re slaving for Turbine’s good cheer!

Chris F
be it a waiter or welder
or legal-document-amender
polticians weasley
or that old man teasley
remember to respect your elders

I waited for that one all day
the one joke you know how to play
I leave my desk for a minute
chris says “quantity’ll win it”
as he demonstrates his productive ways.

Michelle This one she titled “Poor Harry”
Poor Harry tried not to be mean
to the noobs to whose writings he’d seen
their words were all jumbled
frustrated he mumbled
“my god, their metric’s obscene!”

Why, look at all of this yacking!
That Foster, he does have a knacking,
All day I’ve been working;
while Slappy there’s shirking,
His rhymes are poor cover for slacking!

Brigand Green’s name is damned hard to rhyme,
I give up, it’s just way too sublime.
“You need fart jokes!” he crows,
Better cover your nose!
All that bean soup is biding its time!

I regret that I must be the bearer
Of bad news, for my rhyme was in error.
As the bean soup ferments
I apologize, gents:
This smell’s not a joke, it’s a terror.

That Brigand is certainly mean,
In Harry’s duel with the Chrises, I mean,
Can we say “this is art”
Of a poem on a fart,
For the result can be smelled, but not seen.

In limericks, beggars aren’t choosers
It’s like they’re all written by boozers
While the winner’s unknown
(Maybe J-Wo will phone)
At least we know the two biggest losers.

Your rejoinder, both thoughtful and trenchant,
Is on tricky philosophy dependent.
Is art’s muse easier seen
In the fart or the bean?
Is the invisible naught, or transcendent?

one more limerick I must spurt
I must say it truly would hurt
if laurence or brigand
took ill matters in hand
and wrote limericks that rhymed with “phhrrrt!”

A roomfull of geeks with a flair
spewed bad limerics out on a dare
then beans were consumed
and the conflict resumed –
now you’re really all full of hot air.

your quality has gone downhill
the descent speed really does thrill
the heights at your start
didn’t make you seem smart
but since then, it’s been aught but pigswill

Chris F
I’ve had quite enough of your crap
you’re output is little but pap
but I won’t be surly
for though it’s quite early
it’s clearly past time for your nap

And these just didn’t fit anywhere

Get to work get to work get to work
Get to work get to work get to work
Till LOTRO is Live
Let’s not hear y’alls jive
Unemployment could sure be a perk

There once was a Drudge name of Nuckit
Whose weapon of choice was a bucket
He filled it with lead
And swung at my toon’s head
But he missed and did loudly squeal *Disconnected from Server*

Mike R
On a project the features were brimming,
Said the producer “They need a trimming!”
They all knew the truth
But a cry came from Booth
“But I wanted to implement swimming!”

There once was a plumber named Mario
Who lived rich up in Glanmire, Ontario
While his poor bro Luigi
Was stuck with a squeegee
Wiping cars in an East Brooklyn barrio

A spikey haired gent, name of Cloud
Before whom an angel once vowed
“I’ll smite you, and then,
make the world all again!”
then the end music turned up quite loud

The King of All Cosmos did speak,
“Roll up big clumps of crap twice a week!
While you did save the night sky,
You’re still just a small fry,
And your coat should remain green and sleek.”

In land far far away
Was a jedi who had gone astray
Anakin was his name
He destroyed and maimed
Who needs those silly jedi powers anyway

The men from the days of Yore
They All lived on the Shore
The women were wishing
That the men would stop fishing
come in the house and do their chore.

Here is what I don’t Get.
My Co worker who thinks he’s god and knows everything and has “Vastly Suporier knowledge” to me

This was his entry

Walk down the street listening to the beat of Mario
I looked up and bumped into a guy that looked like wario
Make a right to get a Slice of Pizza
I decided I want to play Asheron’s Call
Not Go To the Mall since I’m Coo
Decide To Load Up AC, 2 minutes Later I go ingame and buy some rice.
One Two Three
The Price of The Games Ain’t Free
Four Five Six
Check out the new DDO Pics
Seven Eight Nine
Let’s go to EB and wait in line
And Finally Ten
You check for your favorite game to see if it’s out only to ask yourself when.

He wanted to argue with me over it too. he said his was the best and the rest of us sucked.
/facepalm ok dude whatever.