Out from the wood he came and stood
A moment, and then he
Was ready to get back in gear.
He would return to work and peer
At things microscopically.

His face shorn, he prepared to leave…
A shame he’d had to bump
The cat off, so he’d had to hide
It under a mud hump.

His building neared around the block,
And just then he avowed
He’d best his brethren and he would bare
Answers, and they’d be wowed.

He parked his car and forged ahead
As to the door he came near.
He opened it, and then he sailed
Inside, his object clear:
Riddle unwrapping soon would end;
His friends would shed dread tears!

He had his lunch in a brown bag;
The cheese sandwich smelled strong.
He placed it in the fridge below
A six-pack left from days ago—
On the table, a bong.

Into the parchment he would look,
Once he’d sharpened his eye.
An allergenic tear wiped off;
Into the ink tiers he’d spy.

His oglers quickly got a grip
Not a word would be blurred.
Determinedly he bit his lip—
He would not be deterred!

Rather than grumble, he lumbered on;
He meant to get ahead
Of all his colleagues on that day.
He thought: “Tears they may shed.”

Bummed would they be when he had found
Among the ink-bits motes.
But after that, they would buy him rounds;
Up their glasses all would tote;
And down the rounds they then would pound,
Such as a Tahoe Float.

Peepers aswirl then got a grip…
Sure of what would be found.
He’d gaze until he’d work his will
On the surface much-ground.

Faded ink drips his interest piqued;
To the bottom of it
He would get with scope-sharpened eyes
Till all the bits did fit.

His spirits soared, he filled with joy
At what he saw below.
He thought he’d glimpsed a certain style,
But what more could he know?
“Ha-ha,” quoth he, full-plain I see
What someone tried to bestow!”

It was leavened with levity,
So humor was its brand.
But to better discern the motes,
More scope power he planned.

He believed that a jolly hand
Had made the marks; he vowed
To turn the scope up all the way,
Curiosity uncowed.

It was not going to be a cinch
To find out exactly
The words employed to tell the tales
In dots gone fractally.

He ratcheted eye-grasping power
Till beams would nearly burn
The vellum brittle, thin, and old.
Victory he would earn!

He’d beat his peeping brethren band;
He’d gone into the breech.
Soon time would come for them to see
What he had learned singularly.
In anger they might screech.

All of them appeared at the door,
At that point, free from care.
They all sidled up to his side
And asked, “What have you there?”
The time had come for him to tell
Them all he had to share.

“While you guys went to elbow-bend
At bars, left here was me.
I buried myself in the work
And made a discovery.”

Some of them labeled him a jerk
For doing things this way.
They said, they thought that all were friends,
But he’d sought a means to an end.
“Listen to what I say!

“Don’t give me hell; all’s turned out well;
I think I did my best.
I will now tell what befell
Me in the latest test.

“I’m not a pest; I should be blessed
For what I’ve learned by all!”
Grudgingly they doffed their disgust.
“If you’re bluffing, we call!”

He said, “I’ll let you know, alright.”
His explanation soared.
By what he said, they were impressed;
Then huge kudos they roared.

The race was run; riddle undone;
On the vellum were formed:
Tune takeoffs; thus, by some ancient hand
“Be I correct?” was born.