The Rest of the Story
With apologies to Poe

'Twas a Summer's storm and lightning from the thunderstorm was fright'ning ,
Such that from its cradle I refused to take the ringing phone.
It made no difference who was calling. Thoughts of answering were appalling,
      As I pictured lightning striking, surging through my frozen form -
       Sending forth that killer current, ripping through my frozen form.
Only fools call in a storm.

The raven noted well the ringing, rings as tho' the bell were singing,
Singing out an invitation to pick up the deadly phone.
Screeching, screaming, he made known his loud objection to the phone's
Creating such a deviation, deviation from the norm.
Interrupting utter silence. Silence had become our norm.
       Only fools call in a storm.  

On that stormy summer's night the raven offered such a sight,
Startled from his place - his perch secure above my chamber door.
Foolishly he flew about as tho' he could find no way out,
Until he saw the open window where he'd entered long before,
That open window I'd unshuttered oh so many months before,
Then flew away forevermore.  

Out he flew past purple curtain, flirting, flapping, most uncertain
From his perch upon the bust of Pallas at my chamber door,
Driven by the phone's loud ringing, that unpleasant, odious dinging,
Ringing overwhelming even thunder coming from the storm.
"Who," I thought, "could be so careless as to call in such a storm?"
Fools would call in such a storm

Attempting to ignore the clanging, that obnoxious, ceaseless banging,
I tried to focus my attention on the bust above the door.
Oh craven raven. Oh what malice. He had fouled my bust of Pallas,
Fouled my precious bust of Pallas, clean and pristine nevermore.
"Wretched Raven," shouted I, "you'd best return here nevermore."
"You're unwelcome evermore. "

And still the phone, the phone, it rang there, set up such cacoph'nous clang there,
That I couldn't, tho' I tried it, that incessant ring ignore.
 Reason said I should forget it. Tho' my instincts said to get it,
Get the phone despite the lightning raging during such a storm.
Answer it despite the deadly lightning in a thunderstorm.
Fools would call in such a storm.

Finally the phone stopped clanging. Clapper on the bell stopped banging.
I wondered who it was would dare to call in such a violent storm.
Recited I that lim'ted list of those whose calls I might have missed,
Calls I might have missed because of lightning striking in the storm,
A list of those who'd be so foolish as to call in such a storm.
Only fools call in a storm.

Gradually the storm abated and I remembered, as I waited,
A lineman's words, said years ago, about my kind of telephone.
He said lightning, lightning bolts, it matters not how many volts,
Would not kill me, "crisply" grill me, if I used a cordless phone.
If I used the cordless handset, lightning would leave me alone.
I could have used the cordless phone.

Then, again, there, came a clanging. Once again the clapper banging.
Clapper banging on the bell unanswered just a while before.
I picked it up. "Hello!" I yelled, and to my ear receiver held.
Then came a voice, a grating voice I recognized from long before,
A grinding, nasal, whining voice that I'd last heard so long before,
"Hello, Edgar? It's Lenore."