A poem about a "fictional" company named Gatelinx cancelling a company function for the employees. It's written as a remake of the classic poem Casey at the Bat...

The outlook wasn't bright for the Gatelinx kids that day,
The prom was coming fast, if the employees had their way.

And then when Sales cancelled, and Customer Service did the same,
A pall-like silence fell as management passed the blame.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair.
The rest clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast.

They thought, "If only Chris came with a tux and a hat.
We'd have a prom anyway, with Chris looking phat."

But Jeff arrived first, and Chris was running late;
and the former was in shorts and arrived without a date.

So upon that stricken multitude, grim melancholy sat;
for there seemed but little chance of Gatelinx having a dance.

But Bastian was still single, to the wonderment of all.
And Curtis, the sales director, played music befitting a ball.

And as the music shifted,
something very strange suddenly occurred,
there was punch in the break room and a limo at the curb.

Then from at least five throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
it rumbled through Aberdeen, it rattled in the dell;

it pounded through on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat;
for Chris, mighty Patterson, had arrived with tux and hat.

There was ease in Chris' manner as he stepped into his place,
there was pride in Chris' bearing and a smile lit Chris' face.

And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
no stranger in the crowd could doubt that Chris indeed was phat.

A hundred eyes were on him, a few intent to flirt.
The great multitude applauded as he neatly buttoned his shirt.

Then, a whisper was muttered that Chris was no longer "hip",
defiance flashed in the actor's eye, as he nibbled on a chip.

The warmth of prom approaching was felt throughout the air,
and Chris stood applauding while management pulled their hair.

The news of his arriving had already quickly spread
"We'll have prom yet," said Chris.
"Close the break room!" Burks proclaimed instead.
From the cubicles, filled with people, there went up a muffled roar,
like the beating of the storm waves on a stern and distant shore.

"Impeach him! Impeach the manager!" wrote someone in red crayon,
and it's likely they'd have impeached him had not Patterson raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity, great Patterson's visage shone,
he stilled the rising tumult, he bade the prom go on.

He signaled to Steve, and asked what they should do,
but with emotions still rising the rest of management booed.

"Prom Friday!" cried the maddened employees, in hopes to warm the thaw
And this display of emotion turned management's hate to awe.

But as Chris walked toward the break room, they could see his muscles strain,
and they knew that despite his smiles Peterson was in pain.

With crimson red explaining why he had been oh so very late,
it was all too evident that he had been stabbed by his missing date.

And as the ambulance approaches with much pomp and show,
it is with great sadness that Chris is forced to go.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright.
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
And, somewhere employees are laughing, and little children shout,

but there is no joy in Gatelinx --
Prom Friday has struck out.