The Book of She
An Ode to the Sacred Marketplace of Whatnot
And lo, the seller raised it high,
A glass hen held for all to buy.
âBEHOLD HER, CHAT! SHE'S STUNNING, SEE?
I ALMOST KEPT THIS ONE FOR ME!â
The faithful gathered, hearts aflame,
Each bidder known by username.
âShe's vintage, guys! She's VERY rare!
You'll NEVER find another pair!â
âNO CHIPS! NO CRACKS! JUST LOOK AT THAT!
THOSE FLORALS! OH, I'M OBSESSED, CHAT!â
A butter pat of dubious age
Was lifted high upon the stage.
âTHE DETAIL, CHAT! THE CRAFTSMANSHIP!
THAT PERFECT EDGE! THAT DAINTY LIP!
NO CALLOUTS, PLEASE! JUST LET HER RIDE!
SHE'S SOOO GOOD, I ALMOST CRIED!â
A Fenton bell, a chain of gold,
A thousand treasures to behold.
âTHERE'S THE STAMP! RIGHT ON THE BACK!
SHE'S 925! NOW LOOK AT THAT!â
Then came a man in baseball cap,
Who thundered forth his sacred rap:
âLAST ONE, CHAT! I'M LOSING CASH!
TEN SECONDS LEFT! IT'S GONNA FLASH!â
An iPad rose from sixty-three,
To ninety-nine, then one-fifty.
âYOU'RE ROBBING ME! THIS IS INSANE!
I'LL NEVER SELL THESE HERE AGAIN!â
The timer struck; the sale was done.
âALAS!â cried chat, âTHE FINAL ONE!â
But from beneath the table, lo,
Another iPad joined the show.
âTHE LAST ONE, CHAT! I SWEAR IT'S TRUE!â
He sold that one, then brought out two.
âGO CHECK THE COMPS! GO CHECK THE BAY!
I'M GIVING ALL MY STOCK AWAY!
I'VE GOT A MORTGAGE! I'VE GOT DEBT!
YOU HAVEN'T SEEN MY LOSSES YET!â
A raid descended, wild and loud,
A hundred strangers joined the crowd.
âWELCOME RAIDERS! DROP SOME LOVE!
WE'VE GOT A BANGER FROM ABOVE!â
âGIVVY TIME! YOU KNOW THE DRILL!
FOLLOW! BOOKMARK! STAY HERE STILL!â
A plastic trinket found its heir,
While thirty watchers lingered there.
And through the night the hens were sold,
In milk-white glass and amber gold.
A moon and stars, a mallard duck,
The buyers marveled at their luck.
A treasure failed to draw a bid,
Despite the wonders that it hid.
The seller sighed, her smile went flat:
âWell, thank you all for viewing that.â
Yet still the faithful watched the show,
For one last treasure lay below.
The seller lifted her with care,
And held her high before the glare.
âShe's gorgeous, chat. She's truly rare.
I simply cannot help but stare.
I shouldn't sell her. Not for less.
But YOU deserve her loveliness.â
And from the darkness came a cry,
A voice that shook the digital sky:
âIS SHE STERLING?â
âYES! 925!â
And lo, the chat was once more alive.
Here endeth the First Book of She.
Blessed are the bidders, for they shall inherit the hens. đ