The Analog Kid Challenge.

A Challenge was laid down to the parody writers of AMR to come up with a parody of The Analog Kid. The results were astounding, and frankly made my own look just a little bit crap.

Entry 1.  Matt Gullam

Entry 2.  Jonathan Schafer

Entry 3.  Lerxst in Wonderland

Entry 4.  Qenny

Entry 5.  Mike Smith

Entry 6.  Paul and Matt

Entry 1. Matt Gullam.

A long and windy OT posting, soon

has the group in constant motion.

With a flash of their white keys,

As they're flaming by degrees.

The boy sits on his ass with a joint,

stuck between his lips.

A vague sensation quickens

as a flamer draws his court,

And a rage of violent passion,

has him longing to retort.

You move me,

You move me,

Your flaming and your lies,

and your oft pathetic cries,

You move me,

You move me,

Open war with philistines,

Busy signals, busy lines.

The sunk eyed girl with callow face,

Perches on the edge of her screen,

And the mocking of her peers,

And their flames bring her to tears.

The boy sits on his ass unmoving,

Staring at the screen,

His mother starts to call him,

From his bedroom, from his dream,

Her calls they go unanswered, his mind,

Fixed on his machine.

You lose me,

You lose me,

With your torments and your jibes,

With your sad and lonely lives,

You lose me,

You lose me,

Open letters to be read,

Busy ramblings to be shared

You call me,

You call me.

Too many flames in my mind.

Did I hurt your feelings?

Too many threats to be kind.

When I log on I don't know

What I'm hoping to find.

Whe I log off you will know,

What I'm leaving behind.

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Entry 2. Jonathan Schafer

A hot and windy August afternoon

Has Tyree in constant motion

With a flash of his wheelchair

As he maneuvers through the trees

A girl named Kelly smiles at him

She's really got big teeth

They meet and profess their

love for one another from the start

Let's make a web page spam amr

Then quickly we'll depart

You move me

you move me

When a movie with no plot

Tyree's chat rooom hits the spot

You move me

you move me

If only LIBBY could be there

OTIS too in underwear

ICQ me

ICQ me

The big toothed girl with hump backed shoulder

Dances on the edge of their bed

With a pizza in her hand

Needs the "sauce" to make it grand

Tyree lies on the bed his hand is

Jerking at light speed

But he loses his erection

Before he can finish the deed

And the big toothed girl she leaves him

For a real man to fill her need

Too many chats on his mind

Too many clit rings

Too many spams on our time

He claims he's leaving for good

This is the last time

Until he moves his web page

Once again for LIW to find...

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Entry 3. Lerxst in Wonderland.

A hot and steamy New York afternoon

has Tyree's mind in constant motion

with a swipe he wipes off beads

of sweat dripping on his keys

The Lib lies on his bed with his phone

lying through his teeth

some vague new paranoia

in his dumb and clueless heart

Not bright, his homophobia

has him longing to smell farts

Amuse me--

Amuse me--

With your stories and your lies

Chubby Kelly's chubby thighs

Amuse me--

Amuse me--

L.A. Dreams, Wisconsin nights

Jido Kwan claims he can fight

Appall me--

Appall me--

The rat-eyed girl with dreadlocked hair

Dances on the minds of all those geeks

And her flames make their dicks stand

like a pole between their hands

Tape Head smokes up his grass, unmoving

Staring at the screen

His mother starts to call him

as he uses some Visine

and Paul decides to be Diet Troll

and teach what trolling means

Email me--

Email me--

with your addys and real names

we'll get to Tyree and we'll flame

Email me--

Email me--

Frans is on Greenwich Mean Time

4 AM should be just fine

Just call me--

Just call me--

Spew little sperms on my slice

spew little seedlings

Change your URL twice

When I post I don't know

what I'm going to find

and when I post I don't know

How it effects Ben Has' mind

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Entry 4. Qenny.

A hot and spicy chicken vindaloo has my arse in constant motion

With a flash of liquid brown

As the murky mess goes down

The boy sits on the toilet with the TP in his hand

A feeling of doom rises

As his rectum takes the strain

He howls in despair

As the urging comes agai-ai-ain!

You burn me

You burn me

Oh I curse your curry spice

Oh this feeling isn't nice

You sting me

You sting me

Oh you cursed vindaloo

What did I ever do to you

You burn me

The fawn-eyed girl with sunbrowned legs has come out for a

curry as well

Her farts echo round the room

Like a badly played bassoon

The boy sits on the john, unmoving, cursing curry to hell

His mother calls the doctor

When she notices the smell

And the boy shouts downstairs to her

Call the fire brigade as well

Too many farts in this room Too much burning

I only went ten minutes ago but the feeling's returning

When I crap I don't know what's going to come out

When I crap I don't know what expletive I will shout

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Entry 5. Mike Smith.

The Frag-a-lot Kid

A hot and heavy round of Q-3-Test

Has the grunts in constant motion

A barrage of railgun blasts

Make the campers come in last

The boy hits the jump pad with rockets

Boosted by the quad

To gib the newbie llama

Who keeps asking "what's a mod?"

And forgets to pick up armor

To protect his scrawny bod


You fragged me,

You slagged me...

You must really play a lot

Or are you a goddamn bot?

You killed me,

You gibbed me...

Though I thought I really cranked

You sure know how to rail-spank

You railed me,

You nailed me...

The Crackwhore skin, high poly count

Fills up every Quake addict's dreams

But your k-rad Quakin' skillz

Are what really give me chills

The low-ping-bastard keeps on winning

Scoring really high

My modem just can't keep up

I don't know why I still try

I should quit this game forever

And just hang my head and cry

Repeat chorus

Too high my reaction time

Too many spankings

Too many frags are not mine

When I fire I don't know

Who my rocket will find

When I run I don't know

Who is on my behind...

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Entry 6. Paul and Matt

A hot and steamy August afternoon

Has Tyree pull out his lotion

With a flash of silver wheels

As he gives himself a squeeze

The boy sits in his chair with pizza

Stuck between his teeth

A vague sensation stirring

In the middle of his crotch

And then before you know it

Here's there playing with his cock!


You mooned me

You mooned me

With your Kelly riding thighs

And your wild erotic cries

You mooned me

You mooned me

Open zipper on his tights

He is wanking every night

Spank monkey

Spank monkey...

The clitringed girl with yellow teeth

Lapdances on the edge of his chair

But he's spanking all alone

Cause Kelly's not really there

The boy lies in the chair, unmoving

Staring at his thighs

The Playboy sticks together

As his vaseline runs dry

And the boy pulls down his blue sweatpants

And screams in pure delight


Too many hands on my thighs

Too many beatings

Kelly's big ass on my mind

When she leaves I don't know

What I'm going to grind

I am scared, my mother said

It'd make me go blind...

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