This story kind of spontaneously happened over instant messenger, but it turned out decent enough so I’m posting it here with a few additions and cleanups. It is 100% true.
Once upon a time not too long ago
there was a solitary nomad who said “to the south I’ll go!”
He found himself a new home
that was halfway to Rome!
So he packed a suitcase with a lot of heft
and met the landlord before he left.
The landlord gave him Keys of Four,
one for the building, for mailbox, and two for the door.
The nomad booked a train for the Friday evening
excited about all the things a new city would bring.
He got there that night and got into a cabbie
and as he drove through his new city he found it none too shabby.
The taxi driver was new so he got a little bit lost
but he got a nice view of the city without much extra cost.
The heavy suitcase was unloaded and he paid his fares
and then struggled to carry it up four flights of stairs.
He was at the apartment door
with his Keys of Four,
the stairs he managed to survive,
but a new problem arose: he needed Keys of Five!
So he called the landlady in Nice who called it a “disaster,”
interrupted from partying on a Friday night, starting to get plastered.
She booked a train to Cannes that very same night
while the nomad wandered around to see the sight.
People were out reveling, dining, and having fun at that late hour
while the nomad was hungry, frustrated, and oh so sour.
He couldn’t venture too far because of his gear
so he sat on the street as midnight came near.
Eventually she arrived after one in the morning
but let this story act as a warning:
if moving to a city far, far away
remember to charge your phone, it’ll save the day