Nonetheless, a quick inspection of the hall's adjacent section
Failed to dredge up in connection with the noises any clue.
Puzzled, I retreated and was soon once more well-seated
When the phantom rant repeated and in volume quickly grew.
I moved toward its source, the window, vowing with a passion heated:
"I'll not rest 'til horror's meted out as just desserts to you."

Open wide I flung the window, and, with arms and legs akimbo,
In there burst a Hunter nimble who a single nametag bore:
Yet from Dagobah to Yavin to the inmates of Gate Haven
I had never seen a human named "D_Raven" and no more.
"Why so angry?" I inquired of this 'bird' who'd never soar.
Quoth D_Raven, "Season Four."

"I'm unhappy it was crappy save for Killer, Roads and Lipschitz;
Plus your staff were largely dipshits, and with time they'd have filmed more.
So I've come on this adventure just to kick you in the... dentures,
Thus becoming an avenger of the CRAP you call S4."
Swiftly from his belt a dagger this avenger haggard tore:
Then he *morphed* into a raven, and down upon me bore.

"Prophets!" said I, "those and Losses, and the other stories noxious,
Were mandated by my bosses, who were trying to kill S4!
Why, as sure as my name's David, I gave all I had to save it,
Writing eps such as my favourite, the premiere of Season Four -
The one timeless work of brilliance that rewrote all Sliders lore."
Grinned D_Raven, "Nevermore."

"For what's coming next is groovy," he said, going val like 2v,
"It's a brand new Sliders movie, and by Torme is the script."
This new info was so shocking that I seemed a dead man walking:
"On the names of all the B-flicks off whom I and friends have ripped,
Cross your heart and hope to die and then admit that you have fibbed!"
Quoth D_Raven, "Get a grip!"

But with those few words he'd spoken, I'd seen all my dreams get broken,
Just as surely as Hoboken's even duller than Al Gore.
For if Torme were producing such a work, he'd be inducing
Mass dementia just by using all that crap S1 had borne.
And would ever my creations, Nazi Kromaggs, ride again?
Quoth D_Raven, "Nevermore."

"Fiendish beast!" I shrieked upstarting, "be that word our sign of parting!"
As my eyes so madly darting chanced upon the open door,
I decided my salvation lay in seizing the occasion
To conclude this occupation by declaring open war.
So I grabbed my tape of 'Slidecage' and with no-longer-belied rage
Moved to drive the creature out or even dash him to the floor.

But D_Raven flew too quickly, and with facial mien so sickly,
I looked on as he distinctly spoke from far beyond my reach:
"I don't think that I'll be going, for at longest last I'm knowing
that the lesson I've been owing you's within my grasp to teach."
I did my best at throwing out some words to block his crowing:
"Goodbye! Farewell! Amen! Adieu! I'll see you at the beach!"

Yet the Hunter, unrecanting, still is ranting, *still* is ranting
From his perch above the window near my Kari blow-up doll.
And while true creative thought is one thing I don't do a lot,
I'd swear to the dot he laughs at me behind my back. What gall!
For without the bro's O'Connell and what he calls S4 guano,
He'd have nothing left to rant at in the world.
Nothing at all!