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AISHA DAY SPECIAL
Keeper of the Cork Gun Gallery
Wind howling through a deserted fair
Shakes the shack of wood and nail,
Enter, if thou dare,
Of cobwebs, must, and rusty rail.
Come and try my cork gun,
Only a hundred Neopoints a run.
"Fantastic prizes beyond belief!"
Says the Aisha leaning on the splintered table.
"And only by me they are achieved
Of richness beyond all fable,
Come and try my cork gun,
Only a hundred Neopoints a run."
O, gypsy Aisha of rags and rings,
Hair the colour of dusty lilac,
Doth thou believe the tales she sings?
Dost thou wish to try thy luck?
To empty thy coffers to get a cork gun...
She said it was only a hundred Neopoints a run.
But might it be wise to walk away
From the bantering Aisha of azure blue
And try upon another day,
When you've tested her tale to see if it's true,
To learn if there is glory to be won
If you were to try her dusty cork gun.
The Nerkmid No-Brainer
Let me tell you a tale
In this Aisha Day rhyme
Of my "Nerkmid No-Brainer" --
What a laughable time!
The machine stood so tall,
And each colour was flashing,
Each switch was so goofy
And each button so trashy!
I stepped forward with a heave
And my Nerkmid sat sparkling.
With a flick of my hand
I reached into the large thing...
How it buzzed and flashed!
How it shook, it was shifty,
Then I realised quite suddenly:
"MY HAND'S STUCK VERY STIFFLY!!!"
Heads turned and they yelled
To each Aisha and Kau:
"That boy's hand is stuck stiffly,
I can't get my food now!"
They came by the dozens
From near and from far.
Then I sheepishly realised...
"I'm still holding the star!"
I was a bit disappointed
I'd been in high demand,
Now I stood quite embarrassed
With a Tonguewich in hand.
The Aisha Dancer
Fable told by fire's light,
Of a curse that came one fated night.
A shard of darkness dwelt that eve,
The last trick up Lord Kass's sleeve.
An Aisha of sweet beauty, rare,
A creature stunning, wild, and fair.
Gaze enticing, catching all,
She held them in her magic thrall.
A King would fall, her secret dream,
For she was not what she would seem.
A dark mirage, a demon beast,
A hidden threat, to say the least.
The rhythmic beat of tambourine,
Her hair alight with gentle sheen.
Such motions stunning would deceive,
A wicked spell did dance weave.
A King's court seemed so soon to fall,
As the Aisha moved, enchanting all.
As music played, the court did gaze,
Her spell a mystic, woven haze.
All but one suspicious youth,
Small Lisha did suspect the truth.
To show the others, no small task,
And yet this beast she would unmask.
No more a dancer in their eyes,
The vision just a weak disguise.
Mirage was shattered, dancer fled,
But to where was wondered with such dread.
And yet some wonder, and shall tell,
That somewhere, the Aisha weaves her spell.
Little white Aisha,
of marshmallow tranquillity,
what do you see?
Disturbed by inner demons,
you toss and turn and roll.
The looming of your maths exam
begins to take its toll.
Such things are beyond control.
with maniacal smiles
ruin your calm
with numerical trials
and arithmetical wiles.
But yet, their schemes
have failed to work!
You studied hard and long.
Because you did not shirk,
those Babaas are irked.
Foiled, they flee,
and you sleep once more,
having faith in your skill.
Seeing that math isn't a chore,
you begin to peacefully snore.
A four-eared wonder,
The Neopian novelty
Of mystic splendour.
A creature of marvel,
There is no question.
Unique and gifted,
An inspiration of whimsies,
Possessor of magic
And all of its mysteries.
Neopia's sweet gift
Of quick intelligence.
A clever mind
Of unceasing brilliance.
A gentle friend,
A kind and happy companion
With a gracious heart to the end.
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