by Mona Morstein
Author's note: Because I wanted to, and for no other reason, I adapted Poe's famous poem "The Raven" into an Avengers-related poem. For those of you who have forgotten the story and rhythm of the Raven, which in certain areas I've completely plagiarized, I've included a URL for you to visit to first reread that epic, before dabbling with my trifling little effort:
Once upon an old green Bentley, Mr. John Steed thought quite mentally,
Over many a quaint and curious problems of the Ministry's odd lore.
As he drove on, smiling slightly, suddenly there came so sprightly,
A blue Lotus that was so lightly, lightly smashing in his green car door.
"'Tis some drunken man", Steed muttered, "Lightly smashing in my door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly Steed remembered, it was in a hot September,
And his gracious, mellow temper exerted its habit quite full bore.
Leaping out with hat and brolly, soon he realized this was no folly,
Lost in awe he just seemed jolly, jolly with this woman he adored.
With this willowy tall Lotus driver on first sight he quite adored,
"Mrs. Peel," she smirked galore.
And the silken soft chestnutty hair, rustling as if it had no care,
Thrilled him--filled him with fantastic feelings never felt before;
So that now, to still the pounding of his heart, he said, resounding,
"John Steed. Your car's unbidden bounding crashed into my Bentley's door.
Your sporty car's unbidden bounding crashed into my Bentley's door.
Look at this, two dents, no more."
Presently, his soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Well," said Steed, "in response, I have a favor to implore;
For the fact is, a new colleague is what I need for bold, sure intrigue
And you look like that is your league, your league for danger and for more,
So I wonder if you'd join me, Mrs. Peel, to spy and more."
And he waited--quite a chore!
Deep into his grey eyes peering, Mrs. Peel's heart, too, was searing,
Lusting, dreaming dreams no widow every dared to dream before.
Soon her silence was unbroken, and her wide smile was the token,
As his handsome body heard it spoken without a "but" or "nor".
"Yes," he heard it spoken without an unwanted "but" or "nor".
"Yes," once again, nothing more.
Back into his busy life, filled with champagne, filled with strife,
At his side was Mrs. Peel, and they enjoyed their partnership full bore.
Fighting those who wished to cease all of Britain's calm and peace,
Using things to kill and tease, creating mysteries to explore.
Their hearts were full of courage as they had mysteries to explore.
This they did, and something more.
One day a thing diabolical, made from someone really maniacal,
Appeared in the country wreaking havoc there was no answer for;
Not the least forgiveness made he; not a cop nor firearm stayed he;
But, lifting up both lord and lady, carried them right outside their door--
Carried them off effortlessly right outside their own front door--
Carried them quietly, nothing more.
Then this silvery man beguiling John Steed's thin lips into smiling,
By the odd and bizarre behavior that he maintained without a chore,
"Though this thing be tall and mighty, it," Steed said,"is sure no Knight-y.
You and I, my Aphrodite, will stop kidnapping, which we abhor--
We must stop him from kidnapping, an action we both surely do abhor--
Quote Mrs. Peel, "Nevermore!"
Much Steed marveled his well-dressed love to hear her filled with zest,
Though the vital clues so scanty, little relevancy bore;
For he could not help agreeing that no living human being
Every yet had stood firm seeing Silver Man break through a door--
Silver man with stiffened gait smash and crash through wooden door--
Invincible and nothing more.
Yet The Avengers went out spying, with all their brains and talents trying
To find Him, the mastermind from whose thoughts evil did outpour.
Herrings red they did pursue, investigating every clue,
Till one day it did ensue that Steed had found the guilty store,
Amid a village he did find the dangerous, bad store,
Which Steed entered--welcome gore!
Engaged with Mr. Winch, eccentric, Emma's thoughts were egocentric,
"This secret agent business is something I do well and do adore".
The researcher Winch she spoke to only had on one big black shoe
And he mentioned a bloke he would sue, who had made him very sore--
A man he worked with in computers who had made him very sore--
"That man Legweak", was the bore.
Emma learned of Legweak's stealing plans which were designed for dealing
With computers to make them more efficient, and able to explore
Worlds and ideas much more faster than the ones that so far were master,
Of technologic realms; disaster!, in the scientific corps--
Legweak was now undisputed ruler of the scientific corps--
Winch gave her a pen; nothing more.
Mrs. Peel sat home for Steed, who himself was in dire need,
Since hearing Legsweak speak, and being walloped to the floor;
His head was bruised and aching, Winch was in on world rule taking
so on his plan he was staking to advance and then outscore;
He'd save Emma and defeat Legweak in a plan that would outscore;
He was a hero, nothing more!
Mrs. Peel on her firm own, had listened to her telephone
And heard Steed tell her all about the evil, nasty store.
Hopping in her blue Lotus car, there she went, not too far
To save her man, her love, her star from turning into lore;
She came to Legweak's place to keep Steed from turning into lore--
This she'd allow, nevermore!
Then a fight real big and brutal, which for Legweak was quite futile,
Broke out among our duo and two Silver Men they couldn't ignore;
Swishing hands and radio pen, tossed between a woman and men,
The result was sure a given, when each other the Silver Men tore;
The result was clearly given, when Legweak and the Silver Men were tore;
To exist, nevermore!
Thus The Avengers, mussed and weary, standing by a machine quite eerie,
Gazed upon the solid figure representing all they did deplore.
Yet happily they had succeeded in keeping Britain pruned and weeded
So that people there were deeded the right to safety and decor;
The citizens of Britain had the gift of safety and decor;
The Silver man--to the floor!
And our Heroes, never flitting, still are sitting, still are sitting,
In the front seat of the Bentley that all fans of them adore;
And their eyes have all the seeming of a delightful, playful dreaming,
And the moonlight o'er them streaming puts them into a deep rapport;
And the fans who see them leaning into their loving, deep rapport;
Will be happy, evermore!
© Mona Morstein 2003
No aspect of this story may be used elsewhere without the expressed prior written consent of the author. These stories may not be altered in any way or sold; all copyright information must appear with this work at all times. Please read disclaimers and warnings on top of each story. Feel free to send constructive comments to the author.. :o)
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