I’m The Raven, and I Specifically Asked You Not to Quoth Me on That

Not cool, Poe

Photo by Tyler Quiring on Unsplash, edited by author.

Hey y’all, I didn’t want say anything about this but people have been blowing up my DMs and it’s clearly not going to go away, so… yeah, it’s me, Nevermore the Raven, and all the stuff you’ve been hearing from Edgar Allan Poe is true. A couple nights ago I came tapping, and so gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door, and he let me in for what I assumed was going to be a private conversation. Well, Edgar decided to spill the tea, and I think it’s only fair I get the chance to respond.

Buckle up, y’all, this story gets WILD.

First of all, I wasn’t going to mention it, but he never actually offered me a chair. Just keep that in mind for the rest of this story. The whole time I’m literally perched upon a bust of Pallas just above his chamber door, and Edgar is sitting on a cushioned velvet seat. Just to give you an idea of the power dynamic. Also, remember Ravens only live to about 15 years old. So I’m a minor. And a Raven.

Secondly, I think it’s pretty clear that a lot of what Edgar said in his little poem wasn’t really about me, if you get what I’m quothing. That whole bit about how I probably only say Nevermore because my unhappy master was followed by unmerciful Disaster? Uh, projecting much? I literally just like saying…