Written by Layne Connor, is a parody of a hero’s epic which explores the intricacies of the topic known as the ‘friend zone.’
A maiden fair, he watched afar,
With her beau, Sir Brad, at the bar
Their mugs of white, filled with espresso,
His hand in hers made him depress-o.
Brad was handsome, this was quite true,
But at times his lady seemed so blue.
She said that he was late for dinner
For this Thomas found him a sinner.
A lady as flawless as fair Guinevere
Deserved to love without any care.
Thomas was better than any she’d had
He could be kinder to her than flimsy Sir Brad.
If only she would give him a chance
If only she’d let him take her to the dance.
But alas, she’d said, “No,” with quiet laughter
She served his heart to him on a platter.
That dainty hand she’d laid on his arm
As if gentle touch could erase her harm.
She had said softly, “I’m going with Brad.”
He’d already borrowed a suit from his dad!
Then those fateful words she dared to utter,
They caused his heart to fail and stutter.
“We are but friends,” She said with a smile,
His heart still dying all the while.
How could she be glad,
With no one but Brad?
The dumb football jock
Who smelled like a sock.
Sir Thomas was alone in this wretched wasteland
With no fair maiden to hold, softly, his hand.
Forever he must wander alone
In this horrid placed called the ‘friend zone.’
He looked up to her again,
Her beauty such a sin,
That it could make him feel this way
Its effect on him…he could not say.
He watched her smile at something Brad said
And pretended she’d squealed, “Thomas!” instead.
He was deserving, this brave, lonely knight
Thomas was willing to put up a fight.
Calling upon his bravery and charms,
He stood and donned his best of arms
He walked to the bar where Guinevere sat
And pulled down the rim of his silly striped hat.
“M’lady,” He whispered so close to her ear
If only he could see the look of her fear.
“Thomas,” She said as she turned slowly round
Brad took notice of this and he frowned.
“I wondered if I might take you on a date,”
Thomas said, and sealed his fate.
“Oh, Thomas, no-” Guinevere started to say
But then Sir Brad got in her way.
“Listen here, you little punk,
You’ve got my girl in quite a funk.”
“What do you mean?” Sir Thomas said,
His eyes had begun to glow quite red
“She doesn’t like you, she never will,
But you pursue her still and still.”
Sir Thomas began to fill with hate
And more and more he grew irate.
“And why shouldn’t she? I’m quite a catch!
My mom says I have a fantastic ‘stache!”
And with that, he stroked his facial hair;
The people around could not help but stare.
Guinevere sat, head in her hands
Thomas always ruined her plans.
Just one night out with Brad, her love;
Brad gave Thomas a hearty shove.
“Leave us alone, and be on your way,
She said, ‘no,’ you’ve no reason to stay.”
Sir Thomas left with one final huff;
He’d lost but he continued to bluff.
“Guinevere, one day you’ll regret this!”
Then left he, the boy she would never miss.
The thing that Sir Thomas could not see
Was out of this “friend zone” he could not be.
Guinevere loved Sir Brad, and that was that,
For simply being nice, he deserved no pat.
Sir Brad was not such an awful naive;
At dinner and dances he would always behave.
He was respectful and smart;
He liked to do art;
He was not just some dumb football jock;
As Thomas, often to his friends, would squawk.
Guinevere was not some prize to be won;
She wasn’t to be chased just for fun.
She was a person, just like you and me,
And this, Sir Thomas, could not see.
She did not refuse him because he was “too nice”,
But because she had no view on pet mice.
He was awkward and weird
With a patchy half-beard,
And that hideous fedora did him no favor-
There were surely real men that were far braver.
So as Thomas grew to be more and more bitter,
(and wrote all sorts of nasty things on Twitter)
Brad and Guinevere were as happy as ever
Not even Thomas, their love could sever.
All this time, Thomas thought himself a knight;
He thought that he was noble in his fight.
In light of day, it’s plain to see
Who the real monster could be.
Thomas languished down in his lair
Because he never stopped pining for the lady so fair.
He could have been happy, all on his own,
But instead he continued to howl and moan
Of the injustices done to poor Sir Thomas
Because she would not give her promise.
His banishment from Guinevere’s presence,
A sin, for which, he would never serve penance.
Lyon Life 