Fuck Yeah Firefly

odesession:

An ode to Hoban “Wash” Washburne

The purchase of Firefly happened on a whim,
everyone’s opinions had me go out on a limb.
So Amazon had a deal and I snatched it up fast
I would finally see what the deal was, at last!
No more would my friends need nag and coerce
me into joining the legions of the Whedonverse.

At first I was unconvinced to those spacefaring ways,
there was so much more I could do with my days.
Space cowboys? Train jobs? All right, let’s go!
How on Earth-that-was did they cancel this show?
Later I found out, (once I was a true supporter),
those Fox asshats aired the episodes out of order.

I bet I needn’t mention that the word “Fox”
rhymes with “Go eat a bag of rancid cocks?”

But wait – who is that? Such ginger appeal!
That dude playing with toys behind the wheel!
And my, those shirts, so bright and floral, 
fill my head with thoughts most immoral. 
Pick up those dinosaurs and tell of their drama,
that inevitable betrayal makes me one hot mama.

Uung, that stare, your wish is my command,
let’s live together in that place called Our Land. 

Your polluted homeworld hid the stars from the sky,
so you became a pilot to escape and fly
through solar systems and space to infinity,
guiding your well-worn space-steed, Serenity.
You picked up the Tams, and shit got real tough,
…the fuck? The show’s over? THAT’S NOT ENOUGH. 

So what if your wife could kill me with her pinkie?
With the life I have left, let’s get real kinky.
Whisper sweet nothings of Mandarin in my ear—
wait, shh, was that her? No, phew, we’re all clear.
There on the helm you can have me writhin’,
push up my skirt and pull a Crazy Ivan!

Who, Zoe? I’m not afraid of that twit.
Wait, she’s right behind me? Oh shit… 

Oh geeze, that chest and eye so bloody!
That Niska’s got you feeling kind of cruddy?
I knew it’s wrong and a little absurd,
that I’m digging you when you’re tortured.
Who cares about Mal? I know you’re the guy 
to make me moan “Oh God, oh God, we’re all gonna die.”

Let’s agree on how I probably should not
make a joke about how my head’s just below shot. 

I feel like my pants are suffering such a fever,
gorram, I want to jump on you like a reaver!
You— Oh wait, this just got creepy, 
and now, fuck, I’m about to get weepy. 
I’m just now realizing this ode is pretty whack… 
Aw shit, does this make me a necrophiliac?